Ivy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ivybgreenflower) wrote2004-01-09 11:20 pm
ivybgreenflower) wrote2004-01-09 11:20 pm
Entry tags:
Wow.
Well, here we go.
My left-handed post got a lot of attention (no one even noticed that my eye collage wasn't posted at that link.)
I'm glad so many people care about left-handedness. It was nice.
So anyway, I just posted this in my deadjournal, and I thought it also belonged here.
A warning to those who hate my rants, this is one of them. It is not one of my infamous rants about controversial things, nor is it one intended to make you feel sorry for me.
And here we go.
I have always been pretty open with my deadjournal. I tell my deadjournal many things I don't like to talk about, with the added bonus my friends will be able to see it and comment on it and never have to mention it out loud.
My deadjournal contains so many rants and loving posts about the things I love/hate/both and I found it hard to believe that I have mentioned my ex only a handful of times.
As much as I talk(ed) about him, as much as I was hurting when I first got my dj, as much as I feel compelled to dwell on how horrible I was, I never discussed that here. Why? Probably I thought my friends would roll their eyes. Well, so what if they do? Besides, I don't think they will, or at least if they do, they won't tell me.
In truth, I never discussed some of the worst things I felt even out loud. It hurts to think of them. But I do, and I'm a better person for it.
So here we go.
Once upon a time I met a lovely but very different person called Jeff, whose last name was the same as the man who murdered John Lennon. He was friends with a close friend of mine; we were introduced, and I was smitten for about two weeks. (It may be more. This was in 2001, so I don't remember.) Well, in all my stalkerishness ways, I researched him and obessed about him to my friend Alicia. Well, I never ate lunch, so I stayed outside, and so did she, and so did he, and so did my other friend, and so a whole lot of us were randomly outside. It was destiny, I swear. So, outside, sitting on the floor against metal poles with chattering idiots and frequent conversation with a favorite teacher of mine, Mr. Siefert, the stage for romance was set. (note the sarcasm.)
Well, this boy I fell for was completely different than any I'd ever met. He wore a trench coat, had a nose ring, and was just different.
And he liked me.
He asked Alicia to ask me if I wanted to go out with him, and I was ecstatic, and so we were engaged on November 6th, 2001.
And so he gave me a wonderful and very expensive bracelet for my birthday, but me being the strange child that I am, was not outwardly thankful, although I made it known to him that I wore it everyday and put it around my doll's neck when I went to sleep.
And Christmas came and he bestowed upon me many lovely gifts and I, not knowing how wonderful he was, gave him a box of cookies. (I still feel terrible about this.)
But, we were very much in love, giving how much time we spent together, which was only during lunch. But we managed to escape severe punishment by the teachers at lunch, who turned a blind eye to our constant touching, hugging, snuggling, etc. We were caught once hugging goodbye, and then again by the same teacher while we were after school in the library and I almost fell asleep on his shoulder, and this teacher was very threatening and I'm surprised we never got in real trouble.
We didn't exchange Valentine's day presents.
I accidentally ripped his trench coat on Valentine's day and I offered to pay for it. He didn't want me to, and looking back on it, I think this was when he started to become disenchanted with me.
He abandoned me to spend time with his friends.
Bad things happened between us; I won't tell you, I'll only say that I must have been more annoying than you can guess.
Ok. I lied. I lied to him.
I lied.
I LIED TO HIM.
April 1st, 2002, it was all over, even though he never actually told me, everyone else knew. (By this time his hair had gone from green to blue.)
I cried.
I cried incessantly. I cried at lunch. I cried during Spanish. No one knew why, but it was because lunch had a special meaning to us and now lunch was painful. And Spanish came after lunch and it hurt.
I cried at home and my parents were clueless to my extreme depression.
But there was one more worse thing that I did.
I failed to tell my friends anything about how horrible I was to him. All they knew was that I was very loving and one day he broke my heart... and that lead to very many people who vaguely knew me and didn't know him to hate him. For no reason.
DO YOU HEAR ME???? IT WASN'T HIS FAULT. IT WAS ALL ME AND I DESERVED EVERY SECOND OF HEARYWRENCHING PAIN I GOT.
And yes, I know better now, and I can't believe the person who was Jeff Chapman's girlfriend from November 6th 2001 to April 1st 2002 was me. That isn't me. I'm not like that. I don't know who that bitch was, but she wasn't me and I want her to die. She put me through more torture than your inexperienced minds can understand.
I want to apologize to him.
Sweetie,
I'm sorry I never called you by your name. I'm sorry I never looked you in the eye. I'm sorry I was an ungrateful bitch. I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I never kissed you even though I wanted to and you wanted to and everyone wanted us to. I'm sorry I wouldn't let you dye or spike your hair. I'm sorry I forbade you to steal baby Jesuses from stupid people's overly Christmassy yards. I'm sorry I scared your best friend into submission. I'm sorry I was very threatening. I'm sorry it hurt when I hugged you.
I'm sorry.
Sincerely,
Me.
And yet, I don't feel any better. Probably because part of me is still shattered, that tiny part of me that still believes with all its little being that we will get married and have children and be happy.
Another part of me is disgusted at my patheticness almost three years after the fact.
And the last part of me is sad that I still compare every single living guy close to my age at our school to him. I want someone just like him. I want someone with a trench coat and spiked hair that's black. I want someone who is skinny and relatively short (though tall compared to me). I want someone like him.
And however much I don't want to say it, I just want him. I think he'd like me... the real me, not the bitch he knew.
But anyway, I'll leave him to his tiny midget bitch who also got a lot of unneeded hatred on my behalf.
I'm not so sorry about that, though.
I just felt that this journal needed to have this part of me in it.
The other ex, with the pain that I only sort-of deserved, will probably never ever be mentioned in this detail because I have forced myself to forget. And I have forgotten everything completely about him.
Well, almost.
Well, everyone, thanks for listen- um, reading.
Please comment: Am I pathetic? Did he deserve someone as terrible as me? Is three years too long to still be brooding?
Thank you.
Ivyette @ 11:21 PM
My left-handed post got a lot of attention (no one even noticed that my eye collage wasn't posted at that link.)
I'm glad so many people care about left-handedness. It was nice.
So anyway, I just posted this in my deadjournal, and I thought it also belonged here.
A warning to those who hate my rants, this is one of them. It is not one of my infamous rants about controversial things, nor is it one intended to make you feel sorry for me.
And here we go.
I have always been pretty open with my deadjournal. I tell my deadjournal many things I don't like to talk about, with the added bonus my friends will be able to see it and comment on it and never have to mention it out loud.
My deadjournal contains so many rants and loving posts about the things I love/hate/both and I found it hard to believe that I have mentioned my ex only a handful of times.
As much as I talk(ed) about him, as much as I was hurting when I first got my dj, as much as I feel compelled to dwell on how horrible I was, I never discussed that here. Why? Probably I thought my friends would roll their eyes. Well, so what if they do? Besides, I don't think they will, or at least if they do, they won't tell me.
In truth, I never discussed some of the worst things I felt even out loud. It hurts to think of them. But I do, and I'm a better person for it.
So here we go.
Once upon a time I met a lovely but very different person called Jeff, whose last name was the same as the man who murdered John Lennon. He was friends with a close friend of mine; we were introduced, and I was smitten for about two weeks. (It may be more. This was in 2001, so I don't remember.) Well, in all my stalkerishness ways, I researched him and obessed about him to my friend Alicia. Well, I never ate lunch, so I stayed outside, and so did she, and so did he, and so did my other friend, and so a whole lot of us were randomly outside. It was destiny, I swear. So, outside, sitting on the floor against metal poles with chattering idiots and frequent conversation with a favorite teacher of mine, Mr. Siefert, the stage for romance was set. (note the sarcasm.)
Well, this boy I fell for was completely different than any I'd ever met. He wore a trench coat, had a nose ring, and was just different.
And he liked me.
He asked Alicia to ask me if I wanted to go out with him, and I was ecstatic, and so we were engaged on November 6th, 2001.
And so he gave me a wonderful and very expensive bracelet for my birthday, but me being the strange child that I am, was not outwardly thankful, although I made it known to him that I wore it everyday and put it around my doll's neck when I went to sleep.
And Christmas came and he bestowed upon me many lovely gifts and I, not knowing how wonderful he was, gave him a box of cookies. (I still feel terrible about this.)
But, we were very much in love, giving how much time we spent together, which was only during lunch. But we managed to escape severe punishment by the teachers at lunch, who turned a blind eye to our constant touching, hugging, snuggling, etc. We were caught once hugging goodbye, and then again by the same teacher while we were after school in the library and I almost fell asleep on his shoulder, and this teacher was very threatening and I'm surprised we never got in real trouble.
We didn't exchange Valentine's day presents.
I accidentally ripped his trench coat on Valentine's day and I offered to pay for it. He didn't want me to, and looking back on it, I think this was when he started to become disenchanted with me.
He abandoned me to spend time with his friends.
Bad things happened between us; I won't tell you, I'll only say that I must have been more annoying than you can guess.
Ok. I lied. I lied to him.
I lied.
I LIED TO HIM.
April 1st, 2002, it was all over, even though he never actually told me, everyone else knew. (By this time his hair had gone from green to blue.)
I cried.
I cried incessantly. I cried at lunch. I cried during Spanish. No one knew why, but it was because lunch had a special meaning to us and now lunch was painful. And Spanish came after lunch and it hurt.
I cried at home and my parents were clueless to my extreme depression.
But there was one more worse thing that I did.
I failed to tell my friends anything about how horrible I was to him. All they knew was that I was very loving and one day he broke my heart... and that lead to very many people who vaguely knew me and didn't know him to hate him. For no reason.
DO YOU HEAR ME???? IT WASN'T HIS FAULT. IT WAS ALL ME AND I DESERVED EVERY SECOND OF HEARYWRENCHING PAIN I GOT.
And yes, I know better now, and I can't believe the person who was Jeff Chapman's girlfriend from November 6th 2001 to April 1st 2002 was me. That isn't me. I'm not like that. I don't know who that bitch was, but she wasn't me and I want her to die. She put me through more torture than your inexperienced minds can understand.
I want to apologize to him.
Sweetie,
I'm sorry I never called you by your name. I'm sorry I never looked you in the eye. I'm sorry I was an ungrateful bitch. I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I never kissed you even though I wanted to and you wanted to and everyone wanted us to. I'm sorry I wouldn't let you dye or spike your hair. I'm sorry I forbade you to steal baby Jesuses from stupid people's overly Christmassy yards. I'm sorry I scared your best friend into submission. I'm sorry I was very threatening. I'm sorry it hurt when I hugged you.
I'm sorry.
Sincerely,
Me.
And yet, I don't feel any better. Probably because part of me is still shattered, that tiny part of me that still believes with all its little being that we will get married and have children and be happy.
Another part of me is disgusted at my patheticness almost three years after the fact.
And the last part of me is sad that I still compare every single living guy close to my age at our school to him. I want someone just like him. I want someone with a trench coat and spiked hair that's black. I want someone who is skinny and relatively short (though tall compared to me). I want someone like him.
And however much I don't want to say it, I just want him. I think he'd like me... the real me, not the bitch he knew.
But anyway, I'll leave him to his tiny midget bitch who also got a lot of unneeded hatred on my behalf.
I'm not so sorry about that, though.
I just felt that this journal needed to have this part of me in it.
The other ex, with the pain that I only sort-of deserved, will probably never ever be mentioned in this detail because I have forced myself to forget. And I have forgotten everything completely about him.
Well, almost.
Well, everyone, thanks for listen- um, reading.
Please comment: Am I pathetic? Did he deserve someone as terrible as me? Is three years too long to still be brooding?
Thank you.
Ivyette @ 11:21 PM
no subject
no subject
Thanks.
Ivyette
Wow...
But, You are not pathetic. I know that much. You seem incredibly strong, and, I guess, you didn't know how to react properly to his affection? I'm not really sure if I'm right, if I am, feel free to be mad. But, three years isn't too long to brood about it. But, it's in the past, right? Ohh...I'm messing this comment up. But, it's the past. You may feel bad about still, but...you will find someone else, and, I guess, you will have learned from this relationship. Ergh, that came out all wrong. Forget it all, but you are not pathetic.
Re: Wow...
Ivyette
Re: Wow...
Re: Wow...
Ivyette
no subject
Is three years too long to be brooding...to be honest...yes. We all hated it when Amanda ranted and raved and cried about Jason 2 months after they broke up. Hm...harsh, but you asked...but maybe I don't count since I've never felt such love.
And Cherish still needs to be beaten into a bloody pulp.
no subject
But yeah, three years is a bit much; I thought of Amanda a lot when I was writing this.
And yeah, I guess it does take two people, but oh well.
Thanks for the vote of confidence. :)
Ivyette
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CatholicNess rocks.
Ivyette