reset

I'm unsure how to begin this post. I know this post will be a response, or a retraction of sorts, to "an analysis."
The "target" of that post responded with the following:


Anonymous said...

Please understand what it's like to be me. Everything from me is an "attack" in your eyes, and I never do ANY right.

"You never cared about me anyway."

"Sorry I'm not worthy of your time."

Followed by an apology 5 minutes later? I can't and WON'T deal with bullshit accusations all the time, and you throw out a few every time we talk, even though I try to convince you otherwise.

Go ahead and run my name through the dirt if it makes you feel better, but rest assured I'd never do the same to you.

I hope you get better.


I'm trying to formulate a response to her comments but the only word that comes to mind is "shame." I can't deny a single word she wrote. And I can't explain my inexplicable behavior.
Before I began this post there were so many things I wanted to express.
Bitterness.
Anger.
Remorse.
And now I'm staring at those three nouns, thinking of Anonymous's face and I'm wondering "why?" I have absolutely no right to be bitter or angry, none whatsoever. But I am remorseful.
I wish I could express how repentant I am for intruding into your life. I had no right. You were involved with J, I trespassed and the rest, as they say, is history.
For your sake, I wish we never met. The trust issue between you and J would be absent and you wouldn't have to deal with my petty problems; I'm sure your life would be much smoother and less stressful. I, however, enjoyed every moment of your company.

Christ. This is mind numbing drivel. I'm tracing words of smoke attempting to contrive a cognitive and cohesive story, not even a story but a series of events, a sequence of episodes that my mind has convinced me holds value and meaning. The mind convinces man, but what convinces the mind?

[[R I N G I N G - P H O N E ]]

I just spoke to Anonymous on the telephone and everything is cool. I guess that's how German chicks roll.

mc