Cathartic Soliloquys

This is the last time I am going to talk about any of these topics, both online and offline. I am going to do this because I have been pathetic lately. And angry. I have not been fully aware of how angry I've been. I'm tired of feeling that way, and this all needs to stop. So here goes.


Dear S,
When I think of you, I want to take the heel of my shoe and smush it in your eye. And while it would be easy for me to beat the crap out of you, I would be even more efficient at putting you in your place with words. You are a raging hypocrite. You need to grow a pair and get off your fucking high horse. You are not better than me. You can try and pretend you are, but I know. For example, I know that you forwarded that message I sent you, that message I wrote in confidence, and out of a trust and hope that you were above it all, as you claimed to be. Above all the high school drama. But you are not, as you have proved by forwarding a message I sent you. I thought it was settled, but you just made it worse. Not only that, but as much as you can say you hate being talked about amongst other people, well, you do it too. And I know you do. Because last semester, out of boredom and curiosity, I found your screenname. And in your away profile, I saw you put a conversation you had with P, referring to sexual voodoo. Yeah, I'm not proud that I found it, but I did, and yeah, I'm not 100% sure you're talking about me, but regardless, you are talking about someone hooking up with one of your friends in a forum public enough for people to know. So quit talking out of one side of your mouth about not wanting to be talked about, but doing that exact thing out of the other side of your mouth. Everything you do belies your feelings. Either fucking do something about it, or quit meddling. Because it was oddly coincidental that whenever P and I were ok, you would sit in the corner at social events and give me dirty looks. (Again, hypocritical, because the adult thing to do, as you claimed, would be to talk about it, but no, you shot dirty UGLY looks.) And when P was not talking to me, you would be my new BFF in the hallway. Psychotically coincidental. I am done wanting to tell you off, and wanting to say these things to your face, because I've wasted enough emotional time and energy on you. And anyways, I would hate to have to look at your wretched face in person any more than I have to from simply passing you in the halls.

Dear P,
I keep wanting you to apologize, because you really do owe me an apology for treating me like shit and not being adult enough to have one simple conversation with me. And for that, I pity you. If you were a girl, I would probably be angry (see above), but I'm not, because you're a guy and yeah, I've got that baggage. I am trying my best to let it go, this desire for an apology, and just to be friends with you, but I don't think that will ever happen. And that's ok. But as you'll never talk to me about this, I just need to get it out there - yeah, I used you, too. And I'm sorry, because it's not right. It was what it was, and we will probably never be friends, and I need to be okay with that. I guess that's all, because I have nothing else to say.

Dear M,
I hate running into you. I hate seeing you. I am not looking forward to the upcoming trip. Yet at the same time, I love running into you, I love seeing you, and I can't wait for the upcoming trip. With a simple look, you throw me into a pensive mood. Damn you. But what I have to say to you is ... well, that I'm going to save for later.

All the best,
Hap