Some times I think I'm going f*cking crazy.

No really.

People wonder why I am letting him get to me, why I am obsessing so.

Perhaps because he did get to me.

Because I myself am puzzled at the hold he had on me. Because I want to understand it.

Because I am really very vengeful, and I want him to pay...in some way. I want the control back. What he took away from me...

Perhaps he understands me well enough to know that the only way he could ever hope of actually destroying me...would be to do things this way.

A normal breakup? No sweat. A normal goodbye? So long suckah...

I really don't care.

My typical take on the dating world, on the relations between men and women...has been one of nonchalance. If it comes along, it will come along...I've been asked for my number, (in my more naive days) I've given it...with never the expectation of getting a call. Now I take guys' numbers, I've never given one a call though my phone book is full of random numbers...This is hardly something I brag about. I don't think either side really expects something to happen. Like I said, I don't.

So, I just make it easy on both of us. I take the number to be polite...and forget about it. Relationships don't usually come out of drunken party nights. Sorry, it's the truth. And so, you can see...I don't latch on too quickly, nor do I really care about letting go. Nonchalance...smooth.

But, the first guy that I've had a real long term relationship with...a thing I didn't think quite possible for me. For us to end things this way...is torturous. It preoccupies my mind, ruins my mental equilibrium. I cannot bear it...

Yes, it is not necessarily him, which causes me to obsess so. Actually, I don't even know who he is anymore. Rather, it is much much much more than just him now. Now it's the principle. Now I must win at this stupid chess game.

Let me extend this metaphor a tad bit...His stupid pawn move--the *grimace* package--has entirely screwed the perfect formation I had going on. For him, it's only a pawn, but it has done enough. I am under attack in every metaphoric and literal sense possible. He has regained his presence in my conscience...and I doubt if it's even a second thought for him.

As a friend put it, he very well knows the effect it will/has have/had on me...
The mere fact that I cannot reach him provides me with no outlet of response, no way to get my emotions back on track. In essence, the package was not sent out of any particular feeling for me (when you really get down to it)...but rather, to make himself feel better. To continue playing the martyr role he's laid out for himself...to put the ball in my court and forget about it. To clear his mind and leave mine cloudy.

That, my friends, is the definition of cruelty.

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