Saturday, 21 March 2009

Betrayal, headaches and a cold cup of tea...

...not really betrayal, more "ignore me for no good reason". This particular hurt occurred some months ago but it still hurts. I thought he was a friend. A really good one, to boot. Not literally. Although, now... In the last week, I've had two dreams with Greek in. I may refer to him as ARSEHOLE, as he is both. I sometimes feel tempted to type an email or send a social network site message and ask, "have you grown up yet, and away from the clutches of your clingy jealous female friends?" but I suspect I shan't do this. He probably wouldn't reply, anyway.


I feel so sad about it, especially lately. He's still the one I think will most appreciate my inane texts about someone's very odd haircut on the telly or mentioning that I just saw our resident squirrel, Bertie... and then, Greek would reply fairly promptly with something like "Bertie is a good name for a squirrel. don't see many red squirrels these days. it's wrong pop!" Always lowercase. Except the first letter of the first sentence. Because the phone does that automatically, I presume. He ignored me the first time, because, I think, a particular female friend was jealous of his attentions to me. My Nan had recently died and he was my complete saviour. He stayed up until 7:30am just talking crap with me. Not always that late, he usually stayed up late anyway, when he should've been asleep ready for the studies of university or college...

I believe, in an absolute way, that I wouldn't have been so strong throughout it all without him there for me.

But Greek was persuaded by a seemingly very unpleasant teenager to stop talking to this 20-something. From what I was able to glean from her really rather nasty comments regarding me, she wanted him for herself. I could go on to say how she wore far too much make-up and ended up looking like a not-very-good and rather unattractive drag queen. Which, actually, is true. But if I said that, it'd indicate that I'm bitter. And I'm not. No, I'm really not. I pity her for being so cruel.


...a few months after we last exchanged words of any kind, I sent a message, still upset but less so, saying I was sorry he didn't talk to me, I wouldn't bother him again, that I'd deleted all his info, etc.... via myspace... and he replied. He apologised heartily, it seemed, saying he had been "a moron". With which I obviously did not argue. However I would've used a word...s like bastard child. But that's just me. He's young. Hence child. Nothing to do with his parents' marital status at the time of his birth... so it was all lovely and fun again, and then last year, around September/October he did it again. Just didn't reply to my messages. I didn't send an obscene amount of missives, nor did anything I sent contain anything offensive.


And the (sort of) worst part of this second hurt, is that he didn't have the gumption to tell me he didn't want to talk to me anymore - this is worse because before, he removed me from his list of everything online. At least that way I could see it. But the second hurt had nothing of that. I was still there yet he shunned me. Why? Why did he do that? What did I do? What happened? What changed for him to disown me again, so heartlessly, so coldly?


All this feels much worse, I'm assuming here, because of my Mirena. I say "my". It's an it. It's a small, white plastic (with added hormone! Ooh...) t-shaped thing that prods me from inside out, sending sharp stabbingish (I don't know that this is what stabbing feels like, I'm just guessing...) pains to my ovaries, mainly the right side, up into places I haven't seen nor do I know exist and right back down again. It probably sends the mail I never got from eBay up there, as well... wonder if I'll ever get that Christmas card my Nan sent about 5 years ago... everyone else got theirs. Postal Service. Great music...


I think I managed to catch my tea at the right stage of hotness. I usually let it go cold. Not on purpose. I just... don't realise how the time goes a bit too fast. I'm not always "ready" to drink the tea NOW. It's in the blue cheap cow mug. If it does go cold, at least I can reheat it in the microwave... Greek never liked that. "pop! thats disgusting. microwaved tea is so wrong. never tastes the same". Never tastes different to me... need to heat up this tea now...


So, do I make contact? Or do I not? I don't have his number, I deleted that, but I know where he lives and his email address. And he's on facebook. And myspace. Why let myself in for more hurt? He does support Arsenal, though, and they are abysmally awful, as teams go. That should be reason enough to say NO, STAY AWAY!!

Or maybe... he's the same immature and quite vague student he always was... what do I do? I hadn't really even thought about him until these dreams. They weren't even interesting: he was just there. It's this unresloved sense, this unfinished business feeling I can't abide. Just let go! But how, when he didn't even care that both my Mum and I were going into hospital. He used to care, he used to ask if "things" were OK. Why did he stop caring? Was it his ex? Did she persuade him to ignore me? Did he decide himself? Why? Why did he? OH GOD, why do I do this? I need to know. Let go... Let it go......... I don't know.


Hotted up tea is on the menu, now. After supermarket own brand wheat biscuits. Mm. they really are good. I can't tell the difference. If you have advice, please do send it. About Greek, not the tea. Although, feel free to do that, too...


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