Entropy

I have done something profoundly stupid.
There are those who, from that statement alone, will make certain assumptions. Those assumptions are correct.

It goes like this:
Yesterday, as I played, merry and fickle, upon the internet, I had this idea to check upon my email. Seems logical, right? Seems sensible, right? One can’t leave one’s inbox too long or it will fill with junk that will take seconds upon seconds to tidy. So I checked my email. The email address that has my actual name in it [this has relevance later]. I find some junk, some more junk, and an email from a name that alone is enough to make my stomach drop and my heart leap into my throat and make me catch my breath and make me want to be terribly, violently ill. Such strong physical reactions should be enough to make one leave well enough alone and head to the hills and the like but I’m quite a perverse kid in oh so many ways and leave should for the cowards and click the box. Can you see my first mistake? I opened when I should have deleted and blocked.
Usually, I enjoy receiving mail from males I know. It’s just that I’ve developed and odd kind of aversion to this one based on a twisted shared history that I ended [rather, thought I had ended] some months back in the expectation of full cooperation. After all, someone who ignores you after serious trauma and has a general policy of not contacting*, if not explicitly ignoring, you is not likely to contact you after some months asking you to join some crappy friend’s network. Right? I guessed wrong too, apparently. I’m now working with the theory that this was an accident on his part and that I’ll hear no more of it. I’ve been ignored in every possible way by this boy, and sometimes for weeks and months on end, so hearing ‘no more of it’ does not concern me. What concerns me is hearing more of it.
The second blunder I made was the mistake of curiosity. The original email was tantalisingly dull and empty. I felt I had to know more. [For the voice of Nicole, all a-ringing in my head, YES I WAS BEING OBSESSIVE AND STUPID.] He threw me a line and I swallowed half the reel. I was curious so I tried to investigate. It was late at night. I’m not very good with technology. I’m making excuses for what I did next. [Any Freudians reading this please fuck off now.] The easiest way, so I thought, to find out what this thing was and what it did would surely be to join. So, being clever like me, I joined. Being clever like me I joined not using the email address he’d invited me with but another one. Oh my brothers, can you see how I fucked this up? I joined using not my simple easy name, not the name he knows me by, not even some cute little mean nothing that I don’t use. I joined up using this ridiculous name: nailpolishblues. Email and all.**
This may seem like a mere bagatelle to you, dear readers, but I have rather a lot of reservations about people I know reading the things I write. Surprisingly, this is not because I’m afraid that they’ll find out that I’m shallow, vain, egotistical, a terrible gossip, a terrible bitch [these are some of my better points, you understand] or the like. People who know me, and know me well, know my faults rather well as well. That aspect bothers me little. What I don’t like is the desire or need to censor myself to make my words acceptable and palatable to others. So, for example, if my mother or some of my closer friends were to read this they might be taken aback by some of the things I may say or how I may say them. I neither want to hurt them nor feel their accusing eyes. [And yes, my mother’s eyes – her voice too – accuse.] A barrier, a buffer between here and there. I don’t consider that unreasonable. I’ve spent most of my life building those barriers to have a little of the space I crave.
This is a little personal space [and shared for the sake of my vanity and Nicole’s inbox] that I had hoped to keep clear of certain pollutants. This boy [known as The Bastard which is short for the-bastard-formerly-known-as-the-object formerly known as The Object] fits into the category of people I didn’t want finding this. Possibly ever. I wrote a thesis in emails on him. I obsessed and thought [excuse me whilst I laugh my arse off – big arse will take some time], thought and possibly hoped, I would never hear from again owing to his ability – just by being – of making me a total and compleat wreck of a human being. That’s awful, isn’t it? I spent ages going all out for his attention, in a warped sort of way, and now I think I’m better off with him pretending that I’m dead. I absolutely adored this boy and treated him like shit accordingly, because, of course, it wasn’t mutual. You cannot be nice to someone when you are engaged in a war with yourself to do nothing to drive them away, further away. [Oh what a kooky rationale. Funny how you can think you’re over something, isn’t it?] What’s more awful is that I’m in [at least] two minds writing this. There is the hoping he’ll find and the hoping he won’t and I’m probably being more vindictive and better-off-not-knowing-you because of the former. I gain or lose little either way. I feel more self-loathing knowing I’ve been unfair and am still being unfair and am excusing him and giving him loopholes by doing this.
I really cannot be nice when I am torn in so many different directions. Maybe he didn’t get that text. Maybe he actually misses me – yeah, after six months or more of limited or no contact. Maybe he’s just slow. Maybe he’s just afraid of this. And now I’m writing, once again, for an audience of one. Too much to say and I’m not all that sure I want to say it. Probably it’s just because it’s his birthday soon and he’s lonely locked away in the country and I am such an easy, such a grateful self-negating, way of boosting his ego and making him feel loved. Probably it was just a stupid impulse. Probably already forgotten. Probably I’ll never know.


* When somebody has your full name, your email address, and two of your phone numbers and they still choose not to contact you... Yeah, I thought that meant ‘fuck off and die, lamo bitch’ too.
** Make that two email addresses and two phone numbers.