Monday 15 September 2014
Saturday 6 September 2014
Open letter to the latest person I've hurt
Dear you, and you know who you are, I suppose,
I'm not sure how our first conversation turned into the fiasco that we're dealing with now. Or that you're dealing with now, because I'm not sure it affects me anymore. I have so many things to say, and I have no idea where to start. Every thought is just tumbling down in my head, spilling everywhere, and I don't want to just projectile vomit it out of my fingers onto my keyboard, so I'm typing between bites of oven-baked potatoes with butter and cheese (a meal that reminds me of you, actually), but I feel like I'm missing bits when I stop writing. It bothers me, though, that I don't care. I know why it happened, though; my walls are back up. I feel like after my heart got broken (something I effectively did to myself, actually), I just needed to get my life back together. So as my brain cleared, logic came back, and every thing that had to do with emotion faded. I'm not a robot. I have them, I swear. It's just, I'm super good at ignoring them. Or at not understanding why they're there. I find them to be a nuisance, so I flush them. Just like that. I'm also much better at keeping my mouth shut now.
The one thought that keeps coming back, though, so that I will start with, is the one that you knew. You knew this was going to happen. I'm not saying I'm not the bad guy in this story. Oh no, I'm fully aware that to anyone that hears this story, I'm a liar, a bitch, a heart and friendship breaker and I have the morals of a six month old monkey in need of a forbidden banana. In other words, none. However, I would just like to bring up a conversation that happened about seven months ago. You know, when we didn't know each other very well, and it was comfortable, with a touch of awkwardness and a spark of interest when we were in the same room? I'd told you I get bored. And then when we kissed, I told you I couldn't date you. And then later on, when it got a little bit more intimate, I told you we weren't on the same page and couldn't be a couple.
This whole story is so ironic, starting with the fact that you, the eternal player, decided to pick me, probably the one girl in the near 25-mile radius to not want a steady relationship, to have feelings for. Any other girl would have jumped on the occasion to have a guy want something steady, to want to take care of her, but not me. I can't deal with it, and I get bored of people. I'd told you that. And you offered me a game. You'd lost the second you'd offered to play that game, but you denied it when I brought it up. So I played. and you lost.
I'm fully aware that everything I've done in the past six months was utter bullshit. For the past 90 days or so, I've been what can qualify as a cheater, a liar and a slut. That's a long time to be a bad person, and I'll give you that. But you cannot deny that I didn't warn you, time and time again. "Does that mean we're steady?" you asked me once. And I snorted. Actually snorted into your shoulder, because the question you asked me was so ludicrous. But you kept trying. I'll give you that.
We're not on the same page. I'm obsessed with school, and even more so now that I've gotten rid of the disgusting fog that had invaded my head. I know what I want in life, and I'm not good at being part of an item. My life goal is not to have a family, or to give someone the life I've never been able to have (I'm selfish like that, but you knew that.). We are literally polar opposites, and the fact that we both like puns or that we both carry a clean pair of socks everywhere we go will never change that (and by the way, I've stopped doing that, so I guess we're really not that alike.). And you knew that. And then we ignored it. I'm not sure why I felt the need to lead you on. Maybe I lied to you: I do get jealous. But only when I'm scared of losing the person.
I love the attention. My self-esteem is so low it's probably made close acquaintance with Hades at this point and they're chilling eight miles under ground (it's been scientifically proven that that's where Hell is, now get out of my face about it). So trust me that when someone has feelings for me, watching them get over me is equal part fascinating, equal part traumatizing. I have no idea why people fall for me. I really, really don't, and it's not a plea for attention when I say that. I really have no idea. And I've asked you why you had feelings for me, and you didn't know either. But watching you become a dick to everyone around you killed me. But not as much as watching you try to leave. And that's why I pulled you back. I'm not sure whether I'm tired or bored or fed up or just over you, but I don't really care anymore. Which is why I'm writing this letter.
And that last reason? Oh yes, I cared. I'm not sure I cared about you in the sense that I had "feelings" for you. I loved you, but in the sense where you really, really, can't wait to see a favorite cousin of yours at Christmas. But you weren't my cousin, so I could kiss you. And that's what happened.
I don't seek romance. I seek thrill, I seek new adventures. And you were new, and exciting. Until you weren't. In your defense, you'd told me you were boring. And I hadn't believed you. Well, now I do. And everything that we don't have in common came back and slapped me in the face.
There are so many things that I've done that you can't accept, and that's fine. We knew we weren't going to work out anyway. Game over.
Just one last thing. I know I distribute apologies like Willy Wonka giving out candy at the Chocolate Factory, but they actually mean something. To me. I don't say them unless I mean them. I'm not sure if they mean anything to you anymore, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I led you on, I'm sorry I wasted seven months of your life, if not more. I did think, at several moments, we could work out. But I'm too indecisive, and you're too... you. We just don't match, and when you try to force two puzzle pieces that aren't supposed to go together, one of them gets damaged. That's what happened to us: apply pressure for seven months, et quelqu'un se fait froisser (that metaphor/pun was too good to not switch to french). So, I am sorry. If I've broken your heart, that really, really does suck. And I'll be glad to watch with a concerned expression, albeit from far, as your friends pick up the pieces. I'd do it myself, but you probably won't want me there. If I haven't broken your heart, then I'm glad. This shit storm has finally come to an end, and we can reap the benefits of the rainbow, whatever they may be.
One more thing. Someone once told me that this whole story wasn't going to end well, that we couldn't all stay friends. That someone was right. But I swear to God, I'll be wishing on a star every night that we go back to how we were before. Because you really were my favorite person ever for a while, even though I had zero sexual attraction to you, because I miss the way we could joke about getting together without it being serious, because I miss being able to play fight instead of real fighting. Because as a person, you're fucking fantastic. And I really did care for your friendship. I'm sorry I let it go to shit. But. I had warned you.
No further comments,
Veronik.
I'm not sure how our first conversation turned into the fiasco that we're dealing with now. Or that you're dealing with now, because I'm not sure it affects me anymore. I have so many things to say, and I have no idea where to start. Every thought is just tumbling down in my head, spilling everywhere, and I don't want to just projectile vomit it out of my fingers onto my keyboard, so I'm typing between bites of oven-baked potatoes with butter and cheese (a meal that reminds me of you, actually), but I feel like I'm missing bits when I stop writing. It bothers me, though, that I don't care. I know why it happened, though; my walls are back up. I feel like after my heart got broken (something I effectively did to myself, actually), I just needed to get my life back together. So as my brain cleared, logic came back, and every thing that had to do with emotion faded. I'm not a robot. I have them, I swear. It's just, I'm super good at ignoring them. Or at not understanding why they're there. I find them to be a nuisance, so I flush them. Just like that. I'm also much better at keeping my mouth shut now.
The one thought that keeps coming back, though, so that I will start with, is the one that you knew. You knew this was going to happen. I'm not saying I'm not the bad guy in this story. Oh no, I'm fully aware that to anyone that hears this story, I'm a liar, a bitch, a heart and friendship breaker and I have the morals of a six month old monkey in need of a forbidden banana. In other words, none. However, I would just like to bring up a conversation that happened about seven months ago. You know, when we didn't know each other very well, and it was comfortable, with a touch of awkwardness and a spark of interest when we were in the same room? I'd told you I get bored. And then when we kissed, I told you I couldn't date you. And then later on, when it got a little bit more intimate, I told you we weren't on the same page and couldn't be a couple.
This whole story is so ironic, starting with the fact that you, the eternal player, decided to pick me, probably the one girl in the near 25-mile radius to not want a steady relationship, to have feelings for. Any other girl would have jumped on the occasion to have a guy want something steady, to want to take care of her, but not me. I can't deal with it, and I get bored of people. I'd told you that. And you offered me a game. You'd lost the second you'd offered to play that game, but you denied it when I brought it up. So I played. and you lost.
I'm fully aware that everything I've done in the past six months was utter bullshit. For the past 90 days or so, I've been what can qualify as a cheater, a liar and a slut. That's a long time to be a bad person, and I'll give you that. But you cannot deny that I didn't warn you, time and time again. "Does that mean we're steady?" you asked me once. And I snorted. Actually snorted into your shoulder, because the question you asked me was so ludicrous. But you kept trying. I'll give you that.
We're not on the same page. I'm obsessed with school, and even more so now that I've gotten rid of the disgusting fog that had invaded my head. I know what I want in life, and I'm not good at being part of an item. My life goal is not to have a family, or to give someone the life I've never been able to have (I'm selfish like that, but you knew that.). We are literally polar opposites, and the fact that we both like puns or that we both carry a clean pair of socks everywhere we go will never change that (and by the way, I've stopped doing that, so I guess we're really not that alike.). And you knew that. And then we ignored it. I'm not sure why I felt the need to lead you on. Maybe I lied to you: I do get jealous. But only when I'm scared of losing the person.
I love the attention. My self-esteem is so low it's probably made close acquaintance with Hades at this point and they're chilling eight miles under ground (it's been scientifically proven that that's where Hell is, now get out of my face about it). So trust me that when someone has feelings for me, watching them get over me is equal part fascinating, equal part traumatizing. I have no idea why people fall for me. I really, really don't, and it's not a plea for attention when I say that. I really have no idea. And I've asked you why you had feelings for me, and you didn't know either. But watching you become a dick to everyone around you killed me. But not as much as watching you try to leave. And that's why I pulled you back. I'm not sure whether I'm tired or bored or fed up or just over you, but I don't really care anymore. Which is why I'm writing this letter.
And that last reason? Oh yes, I cared. I'm not sure I cared about you in the sense that I had "feelings" for you. I loved you, but in the sense where you really, really, can't wait to see a favorite cousin of yours at Christmas. But you weren't my cousin, so I could kiss you. And that's what happened.
I don't seek romance. I seek thrill, I seek new adventures. And you were new, and exciting. Until you weren't. In your defense, you'd told me you were boring. And I hadn't believed you. Well, now I do. And everything that we don't have in common came back and slapped me in the face.
There are so many things that I've done that you can't accept, and that's fine. We knew we weren't going to work out anyway. Game over.
Just one last thing. I know I distribute apologies like Willy Wonka giving out candy at the Chocolate Factory, but they actually mean something. To me. I don't say them unless I mean them. I'm not sure if they mean anything to you anymore, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I led you on, I'm sorry I wasted seven months of your life, if not more. I did think, at several moments, we could work out. But I'm too indecisive, and you're too... you. We just don't match, and when you try to force two puzzle pieces that aren't supposed to go together, one of them gets damaged. That's what happened to us: apply pressure for seven months, et quelqu'un se fait froisser (that metaphor/pun was too good to not switch to french). So, I am sorry. If I've broken your heart, that really, really does suck. And I'll be glad to watch with a concerned expression, albeit from far, as your friends pick up the pieces. I'd do it myself, but you probably won't want me there. If I haven't broken your heart, then I'm glad. This shit storm has finally come to an end, and we can reap the benefits of the rainbow, whatever they may be.
One more thing. Someone once told me that this whole story wasn't going to end well, that we couldn't all stay friends. That someone was right. But I swear to God, I'll be wishing on a star every night that we go back to how we were before. Because you really were my favorite person ever for a while, even though I had zero sexual attraction to you, because I miss the way we could joke about getting together without it being serious, because I miss being able to play fight instead of real fighting. Because as a person, you're fucking fantastic. And I really did care for your friendship. I'm sorry I let it go to shit. But. I had warned you.
No further comments,
Veronik.
Thursday 4 September 2014
One year anniversary
It's been a year and almost a month that I've lived in Montreal, and there has not been many posts on Montreal lately, so in honour of this one year being aborded by crazy people and not having ANY excuses to be bored on a Saturday night, I've compiled a quick list of things I've learned in Montreal. Notice it is not complete, and I'll be adding onto it au fur et a mesure.
1. Sushi is available everywhere. Everywhere.
2. People walking around with sushi are everywhere. Everywhere. You will crave it and cave in, and you'll become part of them
3. There is an unspoken metro and bus etiquette. Anyone who doesn't follow it is held solely responsible for the destruction of society and the rooting of separatism.
4. Don't mention separatists. Ever.
5. The odds of seeing someone that you don't have social connections to twice are minimal, but somehow, everyone knows someone you know, and you don't know how.
6. Montreal drivers suck, I've been brainwashed by my mother my entire life.
7. A grid map makes everything easier.
8. Always go on Yelp before picking a restaurant. Or don't, you might find some obscure but really awesome place. But mostly shitty places. Mostly.
9. Everyone loves Montreal, but the people living in Montreal.
1. Sushi is available everywhere. Everywhere.
2. People walking around with sushi are everywhere. Everywhere. You will crave it and cave in, and you'll become part of them
3. There is an unspoken metro and bus etiquette. Anyone who doesn't follow it is held solely responsible for the destruction of society and the rooting of separatism.
4. Don't mention separatists. Ever.
5. The odds of seeing someone that you don't have social connections to twice are minimal, but somehow, everyone knows someone you know, and you don't know how.
6. Montreal drivers suck, I've been brainwashed by my mother my entire life.
7. A grid map makes everything easier.
8. Always go on Yelp before picking a restaurant. Or don't, you might find some obscure but really awesome place. But mostly shitty places. Mostly.
9. Everyone loves Montreal, but the people living in Montreal.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)