I don’t think I’m delusional.
I think I’m pretty good at reading other people and knowing things about them they aren’t aware of or willing to admit to themselves.
My friends have experienced this.
I have witnesses.
I sent that poem or whatever it was to Mr. Artist because I meant it from my heart.
I didn’t think he’d be in tears over me or get all emo, but I know that if I’m sad and hurting and it was my choice, then he must be sad and hurting too.
Here’s where I get a bit frustrated.
In response to my poem in which I basically say I wish I had been the right woman for him, this is what he wrote:
Now, I understand wanting to save face.
I understand self-preservation.
But this reeks of bullshit to me.
Am I wrong?
I know I didn’t imagine the sentiments.
Or the gestures.
Or the unspoken words.
The looks, the gifts, the breaking of his own rules.
It wasn’t me being self-centered and thinking that all men fall in love with me.
I’m not stupid or unaware.
So I feel frustrated.
Not because I want him to hurt or to pine after me, but because it invalidates the true emotional experience that we had.
Because I felt it.
I am sad that it didn’t work out for a reason.
Not because it didn’t mean anything and I could just get over it with no problem.
He was special to me.
I’m okay with admitting that.
It hurts that he is trying to brush this off like it’s no big deal.
Like it’s no deal at all.
A minor blip.
I would rather he had not respond at all.
That’s how it made me feel.
I just needed to share with someone.