On the weekend we opened up James' cottage for the summer, so we can all go there this coming weekend ("we all" being James and I, and a bunch of ... erm .. Mississaugians? Mississaugites?, and "this coming weekend" being the May long weekend). It should be fun.On Sunday I went to Krystle's baby shower. James and I gave her a little t-shirt/sleeper type thing with little cartoon sharks all over it, and tiny matching shark socks. I was then told that Krystle is afraid of sharks, and I felt stupid for a minute, but then realized how odd it is for someone to declare that they are afraid of sharks, because really .. who isn't? Does anyone go for a dip in the ocean, spot a shark, and think to themselves "oh, how cute, I think I'll pet it"? Oh well, I guess some people are more afraid than others. Anyway, it's not a problem, since they're cute cartoon sharks, not live vicious ones. At least I knew not get her anything with a clown on it. She's afraid of those too. That's completely understandable. Go on, take a look at John Wayne Gacy and tell me clowns aren't even a little bit creepy.
I got my first sunburn of the year, but surprisingly enough, I got it at the baby shower, not at the cottage. It's just my nose and cheeks, and a sliver on one side of my neck and shoulder that was exposed when I was sitting in the sun. It looks odd.
You know what? I'm finally going to fully talk about something that's been driving me insane in the hopes that writing it in this oh-so-public diary will help me to properly get it off my chest. This isn't meant to defame anyone, this is just therapy for me, and writing about it in a locked entry or some little secret diary that only two people read is not going to make me feel better, because I am an extrovert at heart and I don't like to keep my shit to myself. So anyway, here goes. Brace yourself, this might take a while.
My friendship with Chiv is really over now (fuck subtlety, I'm sick of being cryptic in my diary, I'll use names if I damn well feel like it, and it's not like I have anything to lose anymore, now is it?). It was over a long time ago, I suppose, but now my mind has accepted it (note that accepting something does not mean being happy about it), now that he's finally taken me off his favourite diaries at my request (or maybe my request had nothing to do with it, maybe he just hadn't gotten around to it before), so that I could stop seeing his name on my list of linkers and think that there was any shred of hope that he might deign to speak to me ever again. Part of me is sorry that I was reduced to finally pretty much just throwing out a resentful "fuck you then" in the end, but then again, I was getting mighty tired of pretending like I was alright with it and continuing to wait around like a doormat to be treated like I existed once again. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure he had his reasons to block me and ignore me and all of that, and I'm sure they were good reasons that I could completely sympathize with, but a simple explanation, or at least an email saying "I just can't be friends with you, I find it too difficult/depressing/irritating/pointless/whatever", or an "I'm angry with you for what you did when I visited you the summer before last and simply can't forgive you yet, even though I acted like I was fine with it up until now" (which I actually would have understood completely), or maybe even a "maybe we'll be friends again someday, but today is not that day" if he was so inclined would've been preferable to the absolute silence that caused me months of confused agony and misguided hope that this was just temporary. No, I'm not saying he owed me any words or explanation. I'm just saying it wouldn't have taken much effort, and I'm pretty sure it would've been easier on him, too, since it would've put a stop to my hurt, questioning emailing that must have been annoying as hell. The only possible conclusion I can come to now is that I was being deliberately punished by the lack of any sort of reply whatsoever, and although I never would've thought he was the type to do that, I think that if I weren't being punished, I would've gotten at least a brief "I'm sorry, I just can't deal with this" or something. This silent treatment was far too blatantly passive aggressive to not be at least partly intended to hurt me. At least, that's what I think, but maybe that's self-centered of me. There is, however, one other nagging thought I've been having right from the beginning, and that's that maybe my being so ignored by him had nothing to do with him being angry, hurt, or depressed about talking to me, but is simply because he's realized that I'm actually just a boring, annoying person to talk to. Maybe all my talk about dogs and pet rodents and Canadian elections and other countless things just bored him to tears, and he simply couldn't be arsed to talk to me anymore. That, I think, has been my biggest concern all along. Not that I caused someone pain or depression (yes, the thought of having hurt him that much does bother me a great deal, but at least I can understand and come to terms with it), but that someone who once liked me quite a bit, and whom I liked quite a bit, suddenly found me too dull to even bother with. That is way more upsetting to me than the alternative, no matter how selfish that makes me sound. At least if it's the whole being hurt/depressed thing, then that still means I matter in some capacity. At least then I'm not just some irksome piece of fluff to be flicked away.
Well, either way, I must accept that this friendship is over, and that there's nothing I can do about it. If he suddenly started talking to me again, wanting to be friends, I'd do it in a second, because that's how I am. I don't hold grudges, and I'll deliberately forget about all the crap that happened before, because shit happens, people go through rough times, that's just how life is. (No, I would not forgive a violent rapist boyfriend or a verbally abusive bad-news friend in a second, but that's an entirely different matter.) But the point is, I don't believe he is going to attempt to talk to me any time soon, or maybe even at all, ever, and I need to get past it so that I can be happy and not have tired old shitty issues weighing me down. And actually, typing all of this out has made me feel a whole lot better. Oh, I'm sensitive as hell and I'm sure I'll relapse, but I'm off to a good start.
And now it's time for breakfast, before I collapse.
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