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Sunday, December 11, 2005

A Letter To Someone

I'm sorry I had snapped at you before. We are friends and you aren't the one to blame but I just felt so angry because no matter what I do, what I did, how I tried, all my work in that moment was taken away and given to you. Without a moment's thought. It doesn't just mean my work was unappreciated, that it didn't matter I brought in half of the members, that I was the one who charted more than half of the wins and games, everything doesn't matter, but it didn't even mean that, the whole thing of my work being passed over to someone else, to you, meant he doesn't even register my existence in his sick little head. I'm not even alive to him.
It is less that my effort hasn't been recognised, that yeah, you upstaged me with a couple of words. You say you have been friends longer, but it is not you that he was talking about his grandfather, or about his fears, that it wasn't you who stay up all night to listen to him, to comfort him, that it wasn't you who had to survive on a meal per day because your body was so leaden with fatigue you can't even function all to be with him, that wasn't you. It was me.
And I'm angry at myself. For letting me be used, letting myself be deceived, letting myself be hurt and continue to hurt. I'm angry that my tears soak the pillows every night, and when there are no more tears, there is only blind sleep with painful eyes. I'm angry that I'm spending my days forced on medication because my chest hurt so bad I can't breathe. I'm angry I can't be with my friends without being once reminded of his presence. I'm angry that I'm unhappy when I deserve to smile.
So I'm sorry for snapping at you, even if it lasted just for a moment. Because it let me know what I've known before but didn't realise. That I didn't exist, not for him.

Yours faithfully,
T

Mused by Sukunami Taka around 1:22 AM

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