Dear Stephen
-From Stephen in my Myspace-
I want to start off by saying I am sorry. There is really no excuse. In the past I have been an asshole to you. Not outright…but in what i did..or really didn’t do.
you were always there to fall back to, when I needed an ego boost, I always relied on that. Perhaps not wanting that knowing feeling that someone cared.
But it wasn’t right. I strung you along, not outright, but I believe that in my small actions I kept you on the line to be my saftety net.
I do not expect you to forgive me, though I would hope that you do. I just wanted to say I am sorry, I was not right in doing that, you deserved so much better from a friend then what I gave you.
I am sorry Fayne…..truely.
__________________________
Stephen,
I never asked for your apology. I never asked for anything more than what you told me you’d give me, again…and again…and again. I never wanted anything more than to be those things to you, that you eluded I would. You lied, and you hurt me, and now I’m supposed to forgive you right? That’s the way it goes? I’m just supposed to shrug my shoulders and let it go.
And I will.
You’re getting married. Good for you. I wish I had it in me to be happy for you. I wish I had it in me to give you that resolution to the pain you caused me. I wish I could smile at you and hug you and tell you congratulations, but…I can’t. I don’t know how to be happy at this point, let alone be happy for a man that made a million promises that he never intended on keeping. It’s nice to know, that you realize you used me. It’s nice to know, that you realize you kept me strung around you. It’s nice to know, that now that -your- life gets to start over, and -you- have the things that you want out of it, that you can finally admit to your shit. That you can -finally- see and own up to the fact that you fucking tortured my heart.
I was honest with you. I loved you. I waited for you. I played the game. And when I stopped, when I stepped away, when I walked, when I finally had enough…when I finally fucking gave up….
Was I just not pretty enough, Stephen? You used to tell me that you loved counting the freckles on my face….and that you loved my eyes and my hair. You talked about how you wanted to touch me, but you never did. I was pretty enough to keep you interested, but….not…thin enough? Tall enough? Perfect enough? I didn’t cry enough? I wasn’t soft enough? I didn’t rely on you enough? Do you even know? Was I just there to stroke your ego?
You fucking hurt me. You twisted shit around and you hurt me, and it still burns. It still brings tears to my eyes. I was so foolish to actually believe that you loved me. That you could ever love me. Good enough to satiate, but never fucking good enough for anything more. Good enough to make promises to, and good enough to break down, but not fucking good enough to hold, or to kiss, or to love. Yes, you used me. Yes, you strung me along. But I’m not going to tell you any of this. What good is it going to do me? None. No good. And it won’t make your life any easier to know the truth. So when I reply to my myspace, I’ll tell you that it’s okay. That I understand. The past is the past. I’ll lie to you, and tell you that I’ve been over it for a long time now, and I wish you nothing but the best. I’ll tell you Congratulations, and I’ll choke on every word I type.
I’ll lie again…to satiate you. Because in the end, you’ve proved to me for nearly 5 years now, that is all I’m good for.
Fayne
