The following is sort of random, just a letter I'm writing now after writing several letters within the past couple of days to various friends. I realized there's still a lot of self-hatred and regret alive in me, that I'm still very unhappy with certain choices I've made. Today, though, after re-reading those letters, and briefly scanning my old journals (pre-Wet-Cleanup), that so many of my choices weren't really choices at all, but the course of action set before me. I realize that I haven't been given a lot of room to fuck up without dire consequences, without people mentally videotaping my actions and replaying the worst parts over and over.
Probably, this won't make a lot of sense to you. Maybe it will. Doesn't really matter; was just something I felt I needed to get out.
I want to built a mile-high wall around you until you forget everything you've ever thought about me. I want you to be as trapped as I've ever been.
I won't say I'm perfect. I won't say I haven't done a lot of shitty things in my life. I won't say I haven't retaliated a number of times against my own persecution complex. I won't say I've never been a horrifically evil person; won't deny my involvement in some particularly unpleasant affairs; won't deny that I've hurt people, sometimes a lot...
I won't even say I'm a fucking NICE person, won't even say I'm worthy of the friends I have and the ridiculously unconditional ways a few certain people love me, because I know I'm not.
But god-DAMMIT, you never even gave me a chance, much less a second chance. From the beginning, there were unreasonable expectations. From the beginning, I was without a hope in the world of becoming what I wanted to be. I hold YOU responsible. I hold YOU accountable.
Maybe I didn't try very hard to make something of myself. Maybe I didn't try to be a positive person all the time. Maybe I didn't try hard enough to get out of the pit you put me in. But when will it ever be enough for you? When will the constant "test" be over with? Ever think of maybe a little constructive criticism? A little bit of guidance? Something -- ANYTHING -- to give me hope that I'll not always have to be the person I was born, that I'll not always be the little terror you gave birth to and raised as one of your little drama-demon children?
You put a person in a hole; you give her every reason to believe she's nuts; you surround her with unhappy people and people on the edge; you throw her a bone every now and again to let her believe she's got a chance and then immediately snatch it back and cause some fun little chaos. You never gave me a chance. You NEVER gave me a fucking chance.
The happiest times of my life were times I was away from you. The loneliest times were when I was away from you. You've always made me believe I needed you. So much I've learned when I'm out from under your shadow. So much I've seen, and so much I've realized I have to hope for. So much I can BE. But then I always come right back to you in my moments of doubt, and you comfort me and then you laugh at me, and you hand me one of your various playthings and you howl with laughter as it blows up in my face. You triumph when I begin to lose my sense of trust again. You delight in your vicious circle of hurting me, comforting me, and hurting me again. You're HAPPY that, the longer I'm with you, the angrier, the more bitter, I might become.
I always believed in you, always defended your beauty, let you nurture me, let you hold me to your chest and rock me in quietness. I always beheld you with naïveté, with this perfect belief that you'd never desert me; you were mother and father to me, playmate and lover. You gave me wings; then you clipped them. You gave me hope, then raped me. You gave me love, then whispered in my ear that I didn't deserve it, whispered little reminders of all your evidence: the long nights spent alone, the betrayals, the lies. You told me I'd never have love until I could get away from you, and then you chained me to an iron-cast building, while passers-by marvelled at the silly little girl who thought she might have some chance in the world. Chance? they laughed, Chance? Fucking grow up and stop your bitching, little girl, and maybe you'll get your chance. Make your own opportunity. But you never let me have an opportunity. I was always under your watchful eyes.
I thought maybe if I loved you more, if I gave you enough, you'd give me some sort of peace. I decided to give myself to you, fully, to surrender myself in your waters, but you wouldn't let me die, either. Meanwhile, everybody told me to go to a shrink, I was losing it. Meanwhile, EVERYONE'S BEEN WATCHING ME, pitiful and just waiting for the next blow. Everybody's been fucking STARING at me, watching my anger and my attempts at vengeance.
The only problem was, I never had a way to GET vengeance. I couldn't cheat on YOU, couldn't spend a night elsewhere without you managing to creep into my thoughts. And so I lied, and I backstabbed, and I fantasized about all kinds of ways to hurt people, any way to let out the frustration. With everybody watching, I became exactly what you wanted me to be: a cold-hearted little bitch with all kinds of cruel capabilities and no remorse. And now everybody knows who I can be. Everybody knows I'm a cheat and a suicidal maniac and a general tormentor. Now I know it, and I wonder if I can ever really wipe the blood off my hands.
I've tried SO hard to transcend you: to live with you and yet be somewhere else, someONE else. I thought I was finally succeeding. I swore off the guilt-trips, promised not to hurt anyone anymore, promised myself I was okay and maybe DID deserve a little bit of kindness. Everything was going SO well. But then one more time, you remind me of my stupid past, of desperation and unhappiness, of everything I've done and all the pathetic little things I've done. One more time, you make me wonder what the hell I'm worth, if I'm worth anything, if I can make it, if I even deserve to make it.
And god-dammit, I DO deserve it, and I CAN make it on my own without you. I can see beyond you now; I can see further than your boundaries. I've experienced a tiny bit of freedom: two days I managed to run away without a trace, managed not to think about you, managed to be whatever I fucking wanted to be because YOU weren't there to tell anybody otherwise. I was GONE, dammit, and I NEVER REALLY CAME BACK. Now you know you're losing your grip on me, so you've got to throw some sick shit my way and whisper, "hey, kid... you'll never really make it, because you're one hell of an evil person... Remember..."
But I don't have to be anything I don't want to be. I don't have to let YOU tell me what I'll be. I don't have to let your sick little games influence the rest of my life. As a matter of fact, it won't be long -- won't be long at all, until I can leave you forever.
My only regret is that I can't bind you up, can't seal you off completely, can't ensure you won't follow me somehow, as you've almost always managed to do. Can't wall you up and let you wither and die. But I CAN refuse to give you another chance.
My own bitch,
~CJR*
"I am a town." --song lyric.