To The Girl That Called Me Up Half-Cut In The Middle Of The Night To Complain That I'd Written A Post About Her

Ah, I can taste the irony already...

But first, let me talk about some other girl.

We fell in love. We shared long years of happiness and sadness in a relationship which still means more to me than the sum total of my extraneous life. Then she cheated on me. It destroyed me, and I wandered lost, in the slums of Satan's ghetto for a long while. At some point, I told a few close friends exactly what had happened, in order that they might stay the knife I held at my throat.

Her response?

"Umm, can you please stop telling people about what happened? It's making me feel awkward."

Usually I'm quite quick with the retorts, but in this case I was so busy trying to not kill myself that I burbled something incoherent and went outside to stand in the rain for three hours, in order to take my mind off things and think clearly.

When I finally came up with what I should have said, she'd left. Always the way.

Anyway.

When we're in pain, we suffer. It's only natural. It's the only way you accept the pain. If you don't suffer, you bottle it away, and store it up, and later on in life you become a serial child-rapist. Suffering is good - it's just the bridge between pain and no pain.

Now, let's talk about suffering. Suffering is an umbrella term for all things dark and depressed that we do; crying, moaning, beating the living fuck out of an innocent room, whatever rocks your boat. Tangible effects which release your angst and let you observe it in a more dissociated and clear way. This is the process of grieving, or more colloquially dealing with it, but basically it's release.

One of the best suffering-related releases is art. Some of the greatest musicians, writers and painters were abysmally depressed, moodily coming up with magnificent works of art when not smashing the fuck out of their rooms.

I'm not saying I'm a great writer, but I do like to write, and writing is one way that I release.

One of the other best suffering-related releases is to share. Nobody wants to suffer in silence - it's unnatural. Leave it to the SAS Commandos who're being tortured to death for random information. If someone decides to bust you soul into tiny pieces, then it's your full right to share your pain with others, and heal that way. Nobody should take that away from you.

As evidenced by my above story, I like to share my troubles, get them off my chest, and therefore extricate them from my brain.

You see where I'm going with this..? Writing, sharing. Suffering, releasing. Look around, that's the premise of the site. A bunch of fucked over and hopeless romantics that come together anonymously to talk anonymously about anonymous people and unplaced events. Nobody is being thrown to the wolves here.

So don't call me up and tell me when and where I can or can't write about a girl that I'm not even involved with anymore. Don't barge into my space, the space I've managed to find which doesn't have you in it, the space which is basically the contents of my head, and tell me what you'd like to see. And, like the girl I mentioned earlier, please don't assume that any of my posts are to do with you. They are to do with me.

So yep, don't bother calling about this second post I've written about you. I'll only answer with the same words I should've said to her.

If you're going to tear my heart out, have the decency to let me suffer.

If you don't want to see it happening, you can leave. I, unfortunately, have to stay.

PS The post in question was this one. And it wasn't even about her. Pff.