Fish Wrapper: 2007.03.30
March 30, 2007Hi [Name Redacted],
[Name Redacted] wrote:
You know, I was thinking: you ask for me to email you because we won’t see each other for a while, but I don’t even get a response from you.
I assume you’re referring to your almost-blog post. You’re right, but you asked me not to respond. I held back. And you know I’m never short on words. But not responding doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you.
Maybe you’re having too much fun. I hope you are.
No, I’m not having fun. I’m at the end of wits, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.
And saying this will probably come back to bite me in the ass, but I miss talking to you. Well, goodnight.
And why would that come back to bite you in the ass?
I’m going to preface this by saying that I’m drunk and stoned. And it’s not that I don’t know what I’m saying, but let’s say I’m going to be a little more liberal with the words than usual, but:
You know what I think. You know? I understand what you’re going through. Of all the people you know, I think it’s safe to say that I know what I’m talking about. I’ve left every single friend I’ve ever had. I left you once too. But at the same time, I don’t understand. Now we’re getting into your MySpace, but no. I’m not going to continue down this line because I know I’ll say something that’ll put my foot in my mouth (and lord knows I’ve said a number of things already tonight), but, but…
I’m going to end it right there.
It tears me up that you’re torn up. There’s nothing I can say to make you better, and I know that because nothing anybody says comforts my ills. Just like you.
The greatest regret, the greatest mistake of my life was leaving you. That, I will probably regret to my dying day. I know this. And it tears me up, knowing this, every time I see you — and especially in your current turbulent emotional situation. It tears me up. In part because I wish it was me you were having these long withdrawal feelings you’re having. In part because I hope that this is what it was like when I left. In part because the aforementioned and the already known.
But that’s my spouting off here, and me saying things that will keep you away from talking to me for longer than otherwise. And so I’ll end here.
But know that I care deeply for you. I want to see you laughing without needing the red wine. I miss talking to you too. I miss you.
I miss you.
Well, goodnight.