Post by etn on Jun 14, 2008 15:38:57 GMT -5
Many years back, I went through a very personal traumatic experience. To make a long story short, I wrote what in retrospect was very nasty e-mail to a person who at the time was a close friend.
The letter had to do with the way he was mistreating a girl. The details aren’t important. The only real regret I have about the letter wasn’t what I said, but how I said it. Also, at the time I was having some real troubles with some psych medications I was on. Although, I suppose I could use that as an excuse, I can’t help but think the majority of it was pent up frustration I felt towards him.
My intention was never to destroy our friendship, but he was one of those people who always had to be right. If you disagreed, instead of logically arguing with you, he would mock your arguments. People like this really get under my skin. I think just for once I wanted him to admit he was wrong.
When I got the letter back saying he never wanted to speak to me again, I was heart broken. It completely shattered my world. The loss was like the sudden death of a close relative. I suddenly felt all alone.
I think our friendship was soon coming to close anyway. Maybe I just wanted to be the one to close it.
Time moved on, but this situation always haunted me.
I was browsing Myspace not too long ago. I was always afraid of looking up his profile, I didn’t know how I would react if I ever saw him again (even if it was just a recent photo). Partly was because I didn’t want to hear about how his life was just wonderful.
Well, suddenly I decided to look at his profile and see how he had changed. Just out of nowhere, I had the urge to do it.
The person I saw was nothing like the friend I remembered (save for the same haircut). He was… boring. Nothing stood out about him. If I were to meet this person for the first time today, I doubt we would have much to say to each other.
Granted, maybe an online profile does not reflect the depth of a person’s life, personality, or character. But suddenly, I felt a sense of relief, a sense of closure. There is no other way to put it.
For some reason, I felt like sharing this here.
The letter had to do with the way he was mistreating a girl. The details aren’t important. The only real regret I have about the letter wasn’t what I said, but how I said it. Also, at the time I was having some real troubles with some psych medications I was on. Although, I suppose I could use that as an excuse, I can’t help but think the majority of it was pent up frustration I felt towards him.
My intention was never to destroy our friendship, but he was one of those people who always had to be right. If you disagreed, instead of logically arguing with you, he would mock your arguments. People like this really get under my skin. I think just for once I wanted him to admit he was wrong.
When I got the letter back saying he never wanted to speak to me again, I was heart broken. It completely shattered my world. The loss was like the sudden death of a close relative. I suddenly felt all alone.
I think our friendship was soon coming to close anyway. Maybe I just wanted to be the one to close it.
Time moved on, but this situation always haunted me.
I was browsing Myspace not too long ago. I was always afraid of looking up his profile, I didn’t know how I would react if I ever saw him again (even if it was just a recent photo). Partly was because I didn’t want to hear about how his life was just wonderful.
Well, suddenly I decided to look at his profile and see how he had changed. Just out of nowhere, I had the urge to do it.
The person I saw was nothing like the friend I remembered (save for the same haircut). He was… boring. Nothing stood out about him. If I were to meet this person for the first time today, I doubt we would have much to say to each other.
Granted, maybe an online profile does not reflect the depth of a person’s life, personality, or character. But suddenly, I felt a sense of relief, a sense of closure. There is no other way to put it.
For some reason, I felt like sharing this here.