12-07-02 @ 7:44 am EST

I'm currently ravaging my portfolio, which is why it's in temporary disarray. I'm even considering deleting my Novels and Snippets folders and just dumping the contents into the Fiction folder itself; not sure yet. I just went through and deleted all of my Mackinac Island photos but one (moved that one), because nobody ever wants to look at them. I've plugged them incessantly and they're even linked to the serial, but there are only a few people checking that out, and the pictures, well... The first twenty had plenty of comments, albeit only a few for each one, but every page after that was practically barren. Most of the best, IMO, pics weren't even noticed except by HIM when he rated everything poorly. Nobody wanted to click past the first page. I get angry like when the other day I came across a so-so picture posted by somebody and that very day it had been posted it got four or five ratings averaging five stars. I had some (IMO) nice nature photos posted for months that nobody wished to look at...so they're all gone now. No point keeping them up if I can't add to them in the future, and if nobody's interested in them in the first place. I'm going to delete almost everything that I feel I won't be able to add to in the future, and that I don't really care for comments on (except my poetry and lyrics, I guess; I don't much care for comments on those, but they seem like they belong here, for now).

Anyway...my three unsent letters are going to go also. And so I thought I would post them in here, as they read much like my journal entries. They are letters to S. (a pet of mine, I admit it, from the reviews it got it shows in the writing I guess); to B. (somebody who claimed to care about me but who could never even give me the time of day, and ended up trivializing an insult somebody directed at me, when I had once defended her from a similar insult...thanks a lot, B., you are not nearly the "empath" you claim you are); and to I. (the person who caused me such trouble with the poor ratings, who once also claimed to be a friend and got mad at ME because I got upset when he would not write anymore).

After these are posted here, I'll delete the static versions...bla bla bla. Nothing else to say, I suppose.

I did care about you, I really did. I just didn't know what to do with you. We had already treated you so poorly, and I know you never deserved it. You never complained though. You were always such a sweetheart. I have yet to meet another one just like you.

I should have listened to you more carefully the day before it happened--I'd heard sounds of trouble, and you looked right into my eyes when I gave you your dinner. Your eyes were so sad. I'd never seen them like that before. I KNOW you were trying to tell me something. But I didn't know what to do, what to say. I just rubbed your head and left you.

The next day I was told you were dead. I didn't cry at first. I just dozed off again. I did that because I was numb. I couldn't believe you were gone. I'd known you so long.

I cried afterwards, and every time I tell someone about what happened, about how you tried to ask me for help and I just ignored it and walked away...I'm starting to cry now.

I know you were always good, you were trusting and forgiving, and I know that you loved me. Toward the end I was the only one who really seemed to care for you. You were always happy to see me. But still I feel as if I should have listened to you when you wanted my help. I don't think I would have been able to change anything about what happened. But at least I would have been there for you, and you wouldn't have been alone.

I'm so sorry that I walked away. I so hope that you forgive me.

--T., your "R."

To the person who knows who she is, on my receiving the inquiry whether I've made her mad since I don't write to her anymore (an inquiry which she will most likely never send)...

I have come to the conclusion that you don't want to write to me, and so I have decided not to bother you in return. Lest you say that you do wish to write...have you noticed that you no longer even respond to my posts? You write to others on the site when you are lonely or just wish to talk. You reply to their posts. You answer their questions. Yet you have hardly a word for me, except for when it's convenient.

I've tried to be here for you in the past. When you were depressed and lonely and did write to me, I would reply and try to give you comfort. No, I never expected thanks for that, to do so would be petty...but for all I know, you never even got my comforting messages, for you never replied, not even with something so small as "Thank you, Tehuti; I needed someone to listen." And when I was the one in pain, and wrote to you, the response was almost always (not always, I realize, but almost) the same...you were too busy or not in the right frame of mind to reply indepth, you'd write more later...which you never did...or you simply refused to reply at all.

This I can't understand. Like I said, I guess it simply means my own pain is of no importance, therefore you don't care to reply.

Please do not say (if you were even going to) that this is not the truth. It is. Perhaps you don't know it yet, or wish to admit it...but from all the evidence I've gathered, it is.

I've been reaching out to you in as many ways as I know possible, short of contacting you directly...well...I tried even that, asked you if I should just persist in writing to you in order to get a response, and what did you say? "I'm not very reliable...so I don't think that would work either..." I've been reaching out to you for weeks. You don't reply. I have given up. That is why I no longer reply to you. It's only fitting, right? I mean...I thought you didn't wish to be bothered, and so I honored your request.

You even told me once you had no excuse for not writing to me. Here, I've given you the excuse you need, so there's no need for you to feel guilty...if you even did. Which I doubt.

If you need further proof? You recently answered a question naming the people on this site that you trusted the most. I was not among them. Which means that when you wrote me once in the past and told me that you felt comfortable telling me things you told no one else, you must not have been truthful. Either that, or you forgot about me completely. Whichever one it is, and it is one of these, it's just further proof that I am of no more concern to you.

I don't know why I was in the first place. Perhaps it was fun for you to write to me, for a short time, but then I grew dull and you didn't want to bother anymore...all I can do is guess why you even bothered contacting me in the first place.

One time you asked me if you had made me angry. I was quick to offer comfort and to tell you that you had not. I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I lied. You have angered and hurt me.

But that's of no more concern.

As I said in the beginning...I've come to the conclusion you don't wish to write to me, and so I will bother you no longer. You can continue to rely on the friends who do mean something to you, and I can continue...well...relying on myself, I suppose. Since there's no one else left for me to rely on.

I pray for your pain to cease every night, though I doubt my prayers mean much in your eyes anyway...

--T.

I'll wear you down. It didn't work the first time; why I'm not certain. Perhaps you really believe there is good to be found in me, something positive beneath the surface?

You'll be looking forever if I don't stop you first...

You took your break, and you came back. Already I can tell I wear on your nerves. My pessimism and paranoia must make you want to grate your teeth with irritation. Nobody can be so constantly negative, right? There has to be SOMETHING good I can find in life, something that's not transient and fleeting, something I believe in with all my heart and know will never give up on me.

I'll prove you wrong. Everything is fleeting. Nothing is permanent, especially not friendship.

I've said before how I loathe to call anyone a friend. The moment you call someone a friend is the moment they walk away and leave you hanging. Friends are the most transient thing of all, besides hope. (Which, by the way, is the worst four-letter word of all.)

I think you write to me not because you are interested; or rather, it's an interest in something else. Perhaps, like I said, in some sick way you think you can bring out the best in me? I don't know why you bother, even though I like the attention...but I know it won't last...because I'll drive you off first.

I've already shared too much with you, more than I've shared with anyone else online. More than I've even shared with anyone in my real life anytime recently. (Like, the past five or six years.) I opened up too quickly, before, and even after you left me hanging with no explanation. I was angered and hurt, but I still decided to open up and "trust" again. It's not trust though. It's just my ever-present need for attention. But I've shared far too much.

Nobody stays around long enough to hear all that I wish to share. Nobody ever. You've stuck around longer than most (and it's only been a few months!).

I'll drive you off before I can share much more.

I won't do it "purposefully." I'll do it subtly--although my subtlety isn't that hard to miss. I'll continue to pick at you with self-deprecating comments, a little gripe here, a little whine there, a pout, a sulk, an angry fit and the statement "Never mind, forget I ever wrote to you!" tossed out now and then, such as I have already done. (That first one didn't drive you off. Just wait. You can't take much more of the same. No one can.)

Do you know that when I say "Never mind, forget it!" I really mean, "Please DO mind, DON'T forget it!"? I'm not sure if you've read where I said that before...but it won't matter. Protests to the contrary won't keep you around, if I keep sending you mixed messages.

First I will poke and prod.

Then you will get angry.

Then I will draw away, within myself.

Then you will try to draw me back out.

Then I will snap at you to leave me alone.

This is the crossroads. Will you leave me alone? Or will you continue? Whichever you choose, you will lose.

If you leave me alone, I will grow bitter and resentful that you could not read my mind, and I will continue to sulk and say, "Forget you ever wrote to me!" Perhaps I'll say it long enough to believe I really mean it...

If you continue, I will just sulk some more, see how long I can draw it out, how much of my irritation you can take before you say, "Fine, I give up! Keep it all to yourself if you want!"

Because I know you will. Everyone does, in their own way, eventually. You all move on, without me.

I'll make sure of it.

Why? Because I've grown to depend too much on the attention you give me. You showed too much interest. I warned you that was a mistake. I have too much of a need, and there is NO ONE in the world who can handle it. My pain and fear and loneliness are too great for anyone to handle, even myself. You'll certainly fail.

And the longer you hang on, the more I will poke and prod at you. I'll sabotage the whole thing, just wait and see. If you continue to play the part of my "friend," then I will just play my little "game" until you give in. I don't do it out of spite, and I don't do it because I want to. I don't really even do it on purpose. But I do do it knowingly.

And I know how it always ends up.

I can't allow myself to get too much closer. If I do, I know you will hurt me. You already have once, when you "disappeared," and you did again today, though I doubt you even know. (You'll find out when you read the really terse message from me, hinting that I should stop communicating with you altogether, right after you have just gotten back in touch with me. I can imagine you sitting there wondering, "What have I done now?" ) I know that you will only hurt me worse in the future. Everyone does. Most especially those who I thought I could trust the most. The more you trust someone, the greater it hurts when they let you down, when they leave you behind without a word. When they move on with their lives and forget all about you.

Friends are transient. Friends always bring the greatest hurt of all.

I'll poke and prod at you until you can't stand it anymore, and you'll give up and stalk off. I'll be angry and bitter and I'll carry on no end, taking it out on myself, about how you "betrayed" me. Although I was the one who instigated it. Looking back, who's to say I didn't instigate all the others as well? I can't tell. I probably did though. Most bad things are my fault.

I probably bored them too much.

You seem to want to be my friend, to get to know me better. You already know me better than most people online. But it's too much. I can't tell you much more, because the moment I open up is the moment I can't stop sharing. There's too much inside me that wants out after all these years keeping silent. You can't handle it. I don't do this to spare you the trouble, I do it to spare me the trouble. Because as soon as you can no longer handle me, you will leave me hanging, and I will be angry and bitter forever. I will forever blame you.

Instead...I will sabotage the whole thing, you will leave, I will be angry and bitter, but at least it won't be at you. Well...partly it'll be at you. I'm not perfect. But I will know who really caused it. I won't have been completely powerless this time. I'll have had some control over how it turned out, as awfully as it did.

I will force you away. I will break your resolve, such as it is. You will grow disgusted and move on. And I will be left alone. But perhaps it will not have hurt so much had you done it on your own.

I can't let you get too much closer. I can't call you friend. The moment you become my friend is the moment it's all over and I'm hurting again.

If I have no friends, I can't get hurt.

That's how it is in theory...the truth is I get hurt all the time, but perhaps that's because I always believed I deserved and could have friends? If I have none, at least the pain won't be as great. It always hurts more when a friend hurts you, rather than an enemy or a stranger. If you are not my friend, you cannot hurt me so badly.

I know you will hurt me, eventually. It's all a matter of time. If I keep my distance, the pain will not be as great.

I'll sabotage and poke and prod and annoy and irritate you no end with my defeatist attitude and paranoia and pessimism. There's only so much you can take. I can tell you're wavering already.

It's just a matter of time now. I'll wear you down yet.

Just wait.

And then I will be all alone again, alone and bitter and hurting, but at least I'll have had some control over it all myself.

--T.

Suffice it to say: "B." has never written back to me before or since this unsent letter; and "I." bit me first, very viciously, and we have not written to each other in months, though I'm still afraid he'll come after me. This is why my port is mostly restricted, even after all this time, and why I don't freely give out my journal URL even though I want to. I've learned that he's patient in his "vengeance."

Tar for now...