My dear,
I don't want to sound rude or judgmental, but if you don't like what I have to say, why do you keep checking up on me? My tumblr is intensely personal, but I always make an effort to hide things under a read-more or to specify if they have sensitive information, so it's not really like you're seeing things accidentally. I know you're not there because of all the Les Miserables and memes, so why? It's just going to upset you. And maybe it was silly of me to post this:
I’m not good enough and I never will be, and that’s okay, but I don’t feel real, and I want to go out and get really drunk and dance with strangers who grab my ass a little too long and share life stories in dingy bathrooms with girls I’ll never see again and fix my smudged lipstick with the half-clean tissue someone found at the bottom of her purse and breathe in all the smoke and stale liquor and bad decisions of an entire disappointed city. I want to have rough, painful sex that leaves me bruised and struggling to walk straight, with someone whose name I’ll never know, because if I’m the one being hurt, then I don’t have to worry that I’m doing something wrong for once, and if I’m being used, then at least I’m grounded in reality for a little bit. I want to jump on a bus and leave far away, no destination in mind, just floating along with the lights and dreams and glitter of a blessedly oblivious world. And, I want your arms around me, your voice in my ear, your heartbeat next to mine chasing away the ghosts that try to claim me. Not that love can fix a thing, no, but loneliness never did anyone any good either. And so, I think that’s what I want most of all. The stability of a touch, the reality of a quiet whisper. Anything but this. Because more than anything, I want to feel, and if I stay as unreal as I am, I never will.
But it's my own blog, and really, I can post what I want, because I deserve to be able to take care of my feelings too. I was dissociating so badly that I thought I would do something drastic and awful if I didn't let it out somehow, and this made me feel better, so really, I don't regret it at all.
You made it about you, though. You thought I was trying to be passive-aggressive, trying to accuse you of cheating on me. Why would I? Don't you know me? If I were upset with you, wouldn't I have it out right then and there instead of resorting to some kind of underhanded tactics? I miss you, of course I do. You would make everything better. That's why I put it in there– when you were with me, it didn't hurt so much, because I knew I had someone on my side. And now I don't. But, it's not about you. It's a bigger thing, something I can't talk about with you, because you're so quick to accuse me of abandoning you nowadays.
You know I'm your friend, first and foremost. Why do you keep sneaking in all these little references to "I need a friend who will be there for me" and so on and so forth, with the subtext that I'm not? What do you want from me? Tell me how, and I'll do it– I want to support you however I can. But don't just leave me to guess, and then be upset when I don't guess right.
I know you're not well, and I'm sorry. I want you to get better, and I want to help in any way I can. But, I have to take care of myself, too. I won't make that mistake again. I can't. So, please. I'm trying my best to understand you. Won't you put even a little effort to understand me?
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