How one season in this hell can kick you down.

I finally heard from the culprit of my broken heart. It only took him just over seven months to type two words to me, the entire time which I’ve spent sporadically crying and depressed. He messaged me with “long overdue” in the subject box and these two simple words in the body of the message: bonne fete.

It really took me by surprise. I’ve sent him 2 or 3 messages on Facebook and an e-mail, attempting to make contact, and never received a response… so I gave up. I did not understand this at all, as he was the one who wanted to keep in touch and he sent me a message saying he wanted to know what was going on with me and to write back to him. So I do and then he dropped off the face of the earth. All I responded to his trite birthday wish with was, “Thanks. Why didn’t you write me back?”

His reply (and this is amazing to me): I do not have a valid explanation dear.

Dear? No, let me rephrase… DEAR!? I don’t know what’s worse… receiving such an unsatisfactory response, or being called dear. That’s it. After seven months of being obsessed over why he was ignoring me, wondering if I did something to make him not talk to me… it all amounts to nothing but a non-chalant attitude. Is it worse knowing that someone just doesn’t care about you, or knowing that they’re not talking to you because you did something wrong? Don’t worry: he just doesn’t give a shit about me.

At first I wondered why he even bothered to wish me a happy birthday. If you can’t even show that you care about me and my life, then why do you seem to think that wishing me a happy birthday is going to even matter to me at all? When you weigh wishing me a happy birthday with actually responding to me, it doesn’t mean a whole lot. It’s rubbing salt in an open wound. I was having a perfect birthday until I got that. Then it just filled my head with all those useless analytical girl questions that don’t do anybody any good, and it ruined my day. I don’t know what he was thinking to send me a wish that was basically followed by a response that, when decoded, amounts to, “Well I never responded to you because I didn’t care enough… but I don’t want to tell you that because that sounds mean, so I’ll just say I don’t have a reason for it.” Thanks, dickhead.

Through my seething anger about this though I did smile to myself, because the only good thing that came out of his message was me knowing I didn’t do anything wrong to cause him to ignore me… because if I did, he wouldn’t even say that much to me and that was an enormous weight lifted off my shoulders. It’s him afterall. At least I have that confirmation so I can move on and forget about him once and for all. It’s hard to do that when you don’t have answers… but this was answer enough for me.

I was about to send back, “Well it must be nice. Thanks for the birthday wish.” but then I thought… what the fuck is the point? So I didn’t respond at all.

I wrote on here in a previous entry:

Maybe there’s some bigger reason for your behaviour right now. Maybe you met somebody, as I anticipated would happen sooner or later. Maybe this is your way of detaching from me, because you’re well aware of the complications involved and the distance, since afterall I was the one who told you it would never work. Maybe someone found the messages we wrote back and forth who you didn’t expect to see them. Maybe the wrong people found out about us and you got an earful about it. Maybe you had a secret life all along that I never knew about, or that you lied to me about. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, assuming you probably just didn’t have access to a computer, as I knew you were travelling all winter… but I saw you online today, so that sort of negates that excuse now. Maybe you relapsed. Or maybe you’re just another asshole who’s left my life as quickly as he entered it. Without any explanation, I’m naturally led to believe the latter.

Who called that one?

Anyway… it’s better to be angry knowing that someone’s just a prick than to be sad not knowing anything. It’s a lot easier to get over it when you’re mad, too. So thank you, at least, for cutting me free of the misery.


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