March 28th 2010
email from Stefan
I’m trying to figure out the right words. I’m obviously distraught while writing it so I have to keep rephrasing. Maybe I’ll attempt to send it later.
March 29th 2010
email from me
Guess what I found yesterday.
The DVD with the last five episodes of Samurai Jack.
email from Stefan
Great…I’ll be right over to watch them.
Anything else you’d like to torture me with this evening?
April 1st
email from Stefan
So, you gonna let me watch cartoons with you?
email from me
I thought there was a reply you were figuring a few days ago.
It wasn’t an invitiation. It was… just baffling timing is all.
Nevermind.
email from Stefan
Baffling timing is all? Come on Rachael. It always slamming the door, then stopping it with your foot.
Listen, you’ve said to me a few times you’d not write me anymore, then…you write again.
You’ve said you’d not send me links anymore….then, sent me links a day later leading to pictures of you on flickr, and links to something you’ve written with me in mind on your blog before that because of odd timing. Then, you again, after saying you’ll not send me anything, you send me a link to your tumblr we’re I could follow your posts and not stumble upon the personal posts(which would be a test of self control).
You say it’s all on me and I’ve not answered you. You tell me many things. Then go against those things a day later often in email. Why do you think I don’t know t times if you hate me. Should I know you don’t…just because you wrote that you don’t? No. You write a lot of tings, then instantly, sometimes an hour later…send me exactly what you said you won’t send me.
You constantly change your own mind in emails. You send me all kinds of things, then…when I sent you a drawing of you, where I specified that it is only to provide moments of pleasure, you still mind-numbingly write, “thank you for the picture, but…”. Ugh…I didn’t say it would change or fix anything. How is you sending me a message telling me you found the Samarai Jack DVD any different?
Do you know how distraught that made me? It let me know that you could write me many things, about what’s on your mind or just other randoms of the day, but even if I specify to a certainty what I’m sending you is suppose to be, you’ll still take the first opportunity to say, “listen baby, I know ya mean well…but this ain’t gonna cut it” Do you wonder why I think my words don’t get fairly evaluated? That “sorry to break it to you kid”, kind of stuff. That, lets me know…you don’t thoroughly try to understand even some of the simplest things I’ve written when you’re upset. So…there are many things I’ve tried to convey to you that haven’t been understood. Complex and simple alike. Email , in my opinion, just isn’t the best way for us to talk. I know I haven’t addressed a lot of what you said. I know what we haven’t talked about in detail….but, you keep flip flopping how you communicate with me. It does things to me. I don’t know what you think know matter how clear it always may be to you. No matter how clear you think you’ve been in one regard, you’re really tearing at me in others. I’m sorry though…I don’t know. I do, want to talk. I do want to hang out with you very badly. I want to sit together and try to speak. Christ.
“It’s been five months”…doesn’t mean anything. You’ve told me you’re done with me many times in these five months. It’s been five months of me thinking about you. Five months of me losing what was most important to me too Rachael. Eventually, maybe it’ll take another five months for you to realize I lost you too, and don’t understand many things as well. This has been nothing but depressing weight on me, and I’m too realistic to think it’ll just, go away.
The real difference is, you’ve refused to understand or believe 99% of what I’ve said, and you constantly demand that I answer your roster of questions because…well, to you…your side is the only true one that will ever exist or something like that. Even though I’m dealing with this loss day to day as well. Even though five months of agony have dragged me along through my own issues with this. Even though you’ve told me time & time again that you won’t send me emails, links, pictures, or other things. You’ve sent them all. You love changing my mind constantly and showing me how invalid your day to day words mean. You’ve closed the door then opened it a million times, and every time I say so much as hello…you look at me like I’m crazy. As if I’m not allowed to inch my way up to you so I could talk to you. You just want your robotic answers,…but only you’re allowed to have human thoughts and send me pictures and say pointless things about what you found. I’m not allowed to be human and inch my way towards you to talk. Can you please admit that’s wrong.
“Never mind is right”, until Rachael decides it’s wrong. You really have stood the test of time and proven how self centered you are when you’re in a bad mood.
“It wasn’t an invitation?” So…you haven’t told me your door is open to me? All I have to do is show up and tell you I want to be with you? You didn’t say this? Amazing you don’t get why I tell you your personality changes like the time. Amazing you don’t get why I’m hesitant to believe that. Do you really think you convey anything clearly?
“Never mind”. The words of someone who truly thinks they decide what words are, and are not to be considered valid.
“I can’t write to you anymore…I’m ending this right here. Oh, but I’m sending you a gift.”(which must be lost in Zimbabwe or something). You didn’t say this either right? If you could admit that you don’t stick by a goddamn thing you’ve said recently, and that I have fine reasons to be apprehensive to think you’ll listen to anything I say, I’d like to actually talk to you.
P.S. I hope you’re doing better than I am Rachael. I really mean that. The feeling of missing you & caring about you doesn’t go away. At least be honest and admit that I’m right to expect the unexpected from you when you write. That’s why I want to see you. So I can look at you while you listen to me.
email from me
The door is not open. There is more involved than showing up and telling me you want to be with me.
You wrote to me that you were replying (i don’t understand the point of that). You said it was painful. So I mentioned the Samurai Jack just as another instance of us being, frustratingly, in sync.
email from Stefan
Really, is there more involved? Teach me the complex art of communication oh wise one. You really don’t read anything. I just sent you an email talking about how much there is involved and you respond by telling me…how much there is involved. Amazing. Truly. Yet, you zero it in on one quote…that was yours…by the way. Why don’t you disagree with something other than your own words. It’s really beating a dead horse.
“The door is not open”. :::goes back and reads about 10 quotes that go directly against that:::: You’re just a liar then(hence…you’re right. That’s the, “more involved part you must have been talking about), and now I’m fairly convinced that you just said you still care about me. I’m sure it would take me about two minutes to find the reason for the sudden change if I felt like looking. Which, I think I’m shrewd enough to just fill in that blank myself.
“Kiss me and make me yours”. So, I guess I have the go ahead to laugh at this statement now? That was just a stupid joke right?
“There is more involved than showing up and telling me you want to be with me.”
Do me a favor. Try reading one email I’ve written. Just one. The groups of letters are called words. When you read the words in a steady succession, they’ll form sentences. These will convey my thoughts in textual form. It’s remarkable how much thought you don’t, put into me.
I’ll be waiting for that gift. You know, the one you lied about sending twice now? Or, are you just gonna keep saying that you’re gonna send it…meaning…before one of us dies…
…and for the love of fuckin’ god. If you can’t see how stupid it is to think you can justify the point of talking about finding a DVD( and it wasn’t to respond to my pain…please), but not the point of me sending you something of equal pointlessness, then…whether its opened or closed…you don’t even know where your door is. So…stop lying. About everything. Or tell me the giant part that I’m missing so I could get up to speed with the intellect, but don’t say a word..about unanswered questions. That doesn’t work now. I covered that in the email. Ya’ know…the one you apparently didn’t read.
Are you…”in sync”, with that? Don’t cushion my pain with cartoons. It all painful to write. This is my response. Like the last email was a response. Do you understand? You don’t get to enter my ears and make me say, think, and do whatever you want. You also have no interest in actually talking. Clearly. You think I really want to come over and play jacks? The last words of my email were quite clear. Or…do you want to explain more to me about how complex talking could be?
Sit up, shake your head, and focus on the lines…”That’s why I want to see you. So I can look at you while you listen to me.” Only you could read that…then write what you did.
email from me
I’ve been up since 6 am. I’ve been cleaning the house. Aunt Mary is gone.
Come by and tell me things, then.
April 2nd 2010
email from me
So… Perhaps, after tattoing, you could come by again?
It’s… well…. it’s always the day after enjoying your company when (again and again) I hit a wall of thought which makes me say things like “i can’t ever see you again.”
maybe… maybe we could talk through that part instead.