February 24th 2011
email from me
You had said that you’d still do anything for me.
There’s something I need.
I still need to understand. I don’t pretend that we will be ok. But the loss of you never hurts less. I’ve thrown myself into life, being productive, busy, social, active. And it doesn’t go away.
I am falling apart. Still. Missing what I thought we had. And lost and confused in my head about what everything meant. What you think. Feel.
I don’t want to hurt.
So, here’s what I’m asking of you. I am begging for you to bring me to some sort of counselor with you. Maybe it won’t do anything. And it’s likely that we’ll never end up close ever again. But the unexplained, and the confusion and the fog in my brain about everything… it’s consuming me. Slowly. And I need to understand before I have a nervous breakdown. I need… to not feel like this. Somehow.
I need to understand how I could care about you so much. So fucking much. I need to understand what I was to you.
We clearly can’t explain things to each other just between us. We grow sharp.
So I’m begging.
For understanding.
Somewhere. Somehow.
I really did say almost everything in those last two tumblr posts I’d left for you. I really was as honest and explaining of myself as i could be. I really did try to address everything you brought up. I wanted to offer the same. Any of your questions, no matter how odd, or accusatory are welcome. I’ll try to provide proof of my claims whenever possible, if that would give my words an honesty. If you could walk away from me knowing that I was telling you the truth, things might be better for your head.
But…. you never did respond. So…. I guess you don’t want me.
If you don’t want me, if you can’t love me, if you don’t want to be romantic partners with me, then… please. Please help me figure out how to not feel like this anymore so that maybe… I can be open to possibly find someone who actually wants me. Wants to be with me. (I deserve that.)
Because i’m just dead and confused and everything tastes like ash.
And it hurts.
And it grows.
February 25th 2011
email from Stefan
Look, I’m a little sickish right now…but I cam downstairs to respond to this on my laptop since writing it on my phone wouldn’t do.
Also, I was obviously surprised to see you messaged me from the bar. I really am annoyed I missed you, but wish you didn’t look at that slapdash collection. I was supposed to hear from them in March or April, but they asked me early. I said, “yeah, I have pieces to hang, but not what I’m currently working on”. You know how little I wanted that shit on display, but that’s besides the point. I also figured you messaged me as late as you did, in hopes you’d avoid socializing…which you clarified was indeed the case.
Now…as far as your issues go. I have similar issues, but the way we are dealing is very different. There’s no mystery of the sadness of our withered relationship. I’m not shy to talk about it to anyone either, <My Friend’s Cousin> included if she asked me what’s bothering me if I couldn’t particularly mask my emotions well enough on a certain day.
This is a wreck, but I accept wrecks. I accept things aren’t fair, safe, or comforting to me. I lose on many fronts. Since the fate of us, I’ve been a bit more cynical, a bit more skeptical, a bit more concentrated….a bit more Stefan. I kind of just submerge myself in drawing and such.
As far as going to a counselor goes…I have March to pack everything I own and move it into a one bedroom basement apartment I found in Lodi, work on as many clients as I can to finish paying my bills here once and for all, and have only two months starting today to get a large oil painting completed for an exhibition in the city. As well as many other issues that give me mini strokes all day long. Besides that, I still force at least six hours a day to drawing and reading. I am so spacey these days from my lack of sleep…I’m a fuckin zombie.
I couldn’t even consider going to a counselor with you until I have myself situated and settled into my new place. I wouldn’t be useful to either of us until then. That’s aside from the fact that I hate counselors and don’t know of any that would cater to my hours…which haven’t changed a bit. But, that’s not to say…it’s out of the question. I did also make it clear that I was done helping you and have no time for you anymore….but I guess you know me well enough to at least know that was sort of bullshit.
Maybe you don’t know what I think. But emails have long proven to not be the optimal path of communication.
All I want to do, is get the fuck out of here, and start to look for classes so I could start building credentials to be a relentless proponent in the public arena to at least a few causes I care about before I die. That’s really it. And maybe paint a little and put out a few children’s books in the process. I want to be hated by people who don’t agree with me, but for a good reason. That’s really all I want. For the next month, my life will be chaotic and terribly annoying…and well…I am not a friendly person these days. I who does or doesn’t like me anymore, is barely my concern.
And being that you’re active and social, that is something that makes me feel a glimmer of positivity, being that you must be suffering from less physical afflictions now. That’s good news.
I don’t really understand why you’d feel a possible nervous breakdown though.
Things are grim…that’s the way things are.
Listen, I’m just rambling because I took a double dose of Nyquil, (even though I’ll be awake till at least eight) and was watching TV because I am pretty sick and have a full weekend of clients. So…if you want, respond to this on Monday. I won’t read it during the weekend (I’m not willing to get angry while I’m sick and working) and it may get bumped behind my client email barrage of minor drawing corrections I have to deal with.
I still have trouble understanding what I was to you as well. That’s the possible stalemate that may never be answered.
I’m going back upstairs. I’ve rambled too much.
(Nyquil is a lie.)