Perhaps I should have specified yesterday that the essay I came across was titled “Dear Jackass” – I wasn’t addressing the post to a jackass.
I was recently contacted by an ex-boyfriend. By recently, I mean Friday. By contacted, I mean he sent me a message on Facebook. I had not exchanged a single word with Jon for about a year and a half. The relationship was one that ended painfully. He was dark and manipulative – a toxic person. I wish that I could say I am a good person who just wants him to be happy with his girlfriend now – who is the same girl he cheated on me with for most of our relationship. But in reality, I wish for him evil things. Forgiveness is supposed to be a virtue or something, but he’s a person I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive for a long time. Probably not until it’s so far behind me that the only way to truly remember him or the pain he caused are the essays I wrote about him.
While packing my belongings, I came across a few journals from the time we were together. It’s hard to read those things. Hindsight’s a bitch, and it illuminated all the excuses I was making, trying to explain away all the things he did that made me feel worthless. Of course, reading through all that tore up the wound and I was reminded of those nights I spent feeling so alone and helpless. That led to me getting angry and wanting retribution. However, I’m too proud to send him an angry letter or e-mail – I know that it would serve only to make me look pathetic, as if I still pine over things constantly. I don’t, obviously. I’m in a much healthier relationship now with a man who makes me much happier than Jon, and my life has blossomed into something much more rich and fulfilling than I could have had with Jon.
Anyway, Jon had wanted to make nice, basically. I contemplated whether it would be more cruel to continue the silence or if a succinct “Eat shit” would better serve my purposes. I chose the latter. I was hesitant to do so, because I feared any communication would open up the door and welcome back the swirl of insanity and manipulation. But this was different. He had initiated the conversation in a very vulnerable manner – I was in the position of power. I was able to tell him exactly what I wanted: that I wanted nothing to do with him, and that because he had lied to me so much for so long, I would never trust a word he said.
Predictably, the interaction made me uneasy. However, being able to say “You’ll have to excuse me when I say I don’t believe you have platonic love for me. You’re a toxic person – one that deserves none of my trust, much less trust that is lasting” blessed me with a sense of peace I didn’t think was possible. I didn’t think I needed closure. There was nothing to close. It was a relationship that needed to end, and I ended it and I didn’t for a second regret my decision. But I think this was my closure. Being able to say “fuck you” without actually saying it felt pretty damn good, and I was able to breath a nice sigh of relief and go on to have a wonderful day.