Oh the crumbs of past relationships can be bitter. Bill called this morning. Well, last night. It seems something I sent him led him into reading my journal again. Not in depth or anything, just enough to get general impressions, I think. He didn’t know details or how I helped Jen Bishop move, for example. I wish there was someone I could talk to about this with. Someone that knows the both of us. Seems to be a familiar want though, what with my father on the scene.
After my long day of hyper-reality sleep-dep I finally crawled into bed at two only to be woken by ringing at four. In my exhaustion I thought it was my alarm and couldn’t understand why it wasn’t turning off. It’s only fair and fitting that I was confused even before I picked up because it didn’t go away for almost the entire conversation. Two hours of swearing and hanging up on me only to call back seconds later. Poor thing. It must be hard to be so angry. Keeping such a thing harshly smoldering at all times must take so much energy. Blearily saying hallo led me to the “so you have someone new” conversation. Well, okay, rant. I began by hesitatingly said “yeeaass?” to get an instant “fuck you, you fucking bitch cunt” *click*.
Everything just sort of continued off that, but for more obscure reasons than I can apparently grasp. It seems that my being involved with Gavool means that I don’t care for Bill. I, of course, do not see the connection, but I suppose that’s okay. I see that there’s no explanation forthcoming and I know that anything I say is going to filter through many layers that all seem to have nothing at all to do with me. The fact that I don’t see my current with Gavool as a new thing is also apparently hearsay. How dare I still Love the people I used to. Our three year relationship is now empty and dust because I continued to care for people I loved while I was with him. Very strange. Nothing I can wrap my mind about at all. Over the course of our ‘discussion’ I discovered for the first time that he’s never left anyone on good terms ever. I think that may be part of it. Never experiencing positive goodbyes could make the concept something alien. Also, asking if that’s a viable theory equals cruelly cutting him down. I know was too tired to attempt diplomacy, but I know as well that I didn’t say any hurtfully intended thing. Not one mean word voiced in my mind or past my lips. I think he hung up four times anyways.
Funny thing is that if I were even a slightly crueller person than I am, I wouldn’t have been actually home last night. I would have made the phonecall explaining that I am full aware of the implications of staying over two nights in a week and how they don’t count because I say so. I can imagine him simmering upset only to eventually wake my roomate with the ringing. “No – sorry – she’s not here” at three in the morning. *chuckles* Would serve him right for asking some of the questions that were hatefully thrown at me. However much I’m sure he doesn’t want to think about it, he still asked personal sex questions. I may just decide at some point he’s a masochist. I could so easily see him picturing me lying with someone else and feeling betrayed. Wanting to burst in, death in hand. In fact, now that I think about it, I would lay money down that he did that before calling me. He even pulled out the orgasm thing. “You got it with him – didn’t you?” Wow – fragility. I suspect that if I were to attempt to be hateful back, he would feel justified and therefore be a bit happier. Almost I wish could find some for him. It wouldn’t be honest, but if he could lose even a little bit of the blackness, he would be so much better. I love him, I don’t like to hear him so ruined. The only victim I’ll have the time for.
I’m glad he called, though the utter teenager angst of a lot of it was a bit much. At least I know now he’s not deleting my e-mails off-hand. Reminded me of Domni’s ex who torched all her belongings and as luck would have it, he direct quoted a note that I got earlier this week. That made me chuckle. My humour hates me. Those two would have gotten along if they’d ever let themselves. They could have sat in a coffeeshop and bitched about me. Ah sigh, he can’t punish me anymore, I’m mine again. Why is he trying this? I didn’t understand and still I don’t understand, and nor will I ever be properly told. If it’s so distateful for him, why not change things? Why not change them when I was still with him if they were so awful? Oh sorry – I was told when I ask these questions I’m putting him down again. *sighs* When he calls again, I’ll have to be more awake so I can find other ways to word them. Certainly I was told this was my last phonecall, but I think I was told the last one was too. None of these have really stood out as anything new though apparently his heart is “actually broken” now. Which, if I were feeling like it, would lead to the question, ‘then what was it before?’. I don’t though. I don’t feel like any of this. That’s likely part of the why-I-don’t-care he’s upset about. No anger? Why then, I obviously have no feelings on the matter. Or something. Wish he’d tell me. When we were together, I was continually telling him to write things down, because he’d become too defensive to ever actually say anything to me. Glad I got the phonecall, now I hope I finally get a letter.