04-07-05 @ 1:10 am EDT

Written offline, morning 4/6/05.

As said in earlier entries, I've been back at FictionPress.net, deleting my old stories and saving the reviews that will go with them. I intend to post anew, if it works. *shrug* Not the point of this entry.

I added a couple of people to my authors (*waves at DI*), then went to check on the account of someone who had already been on my list. This is someone whose own Egyptian-themed fiction so inspired me long ago. I noticed that they had deleted all their fics, all their info but their journal and e-mail address, and their entire profile had been summed up in:

I suck. No more. Go away.

I do not know what specifically prompted this change, nor when it happened, since it's been a very long time since I've even looked at their page or their journal. I stopped looking long ago. We're still on each other's friends list but not a day goes by when I don't wonder if I should just delete them, and wait for them to delete me. I'm surprised they haven't already. It's probably because they forgot I exist or something.

This is an entry that's been a long time coming but I didn't want to be rude typing it. Even when I'm hurting, I hate to be rude. People always tell me to be more patient, even though that means waiting months and months for something that just never comes. But seeing those words on their profile--"I suck. No more. Go away"--prompted this. With such words as that I would have to assume--maybe mistakenly, I admit--that this person grew discouraged with their writing, and so deleted it from the site. I don't know what the truth is. That's only what it sounds like.

Long ago, I was following this person's novel diligently. I loved it to death. I really wanted to see how it ended. It affected me so much that I felt sad for the characters (NOT much writing does this...in fact, it's usually only my own writing I feel such a way for), and the writer left off at a very sad point, and I REALLY wanted to know what happened. In fact, it was directly because of this author that I wrote a lot of my OWN short Egyptian-based stories (before reading theirs, I had not thought I COULD write short stories like that), and I had always really hoped that they would stop by and read mine (aside from two or three comments, they never really got into anything of mine). I had not been able to maintain proper e-mail contact with them though. I admit I was slow in responding to them, and I let two months lapse. I did then e-mail them again to apologize and try to pick up as before. They did not respond. I waited a while, then tried another address of theirs, just in case. They did not respond to that either. I felt very hurt, but perhaps it had been my fault. I'd taken too long replying. I was hoping they would continue with their story, but I stopped contacting them because I thought it obvious that they did not want to hear from me anymore, and I did not want to bother them.

I did check on the story from time to time. It was never updated beyond that point. I eventually gave up.

Then, a year or so later, I ran across the printout I had made of the story, saw again that sad non-ending, and wondered, had this person been working on that story again? Curious, I went and looked them up. No...the story was stuck just as it had been years ago. I thought, perhaps I should try to contact them again, and maybe prompt them to work on it anew? It was worth a shot; perhaps some encouragement would go a long way. I felt very stupid contacting them because I still believed they had not wanted to hear from me, but on seeing in their journal that they too had been frustrated by the lack of readers, I decided to swallow my anxiety and try. And lo and behold, they responded enthusiastically, and I was so happy I had bothered! They never did tell me why they had not responded to my past two e-mails, but they seemed so happy to hear from me that it did not matter so much. It was obvious that any hard feelings, if there had been any, were gone.

It turned out that no...they had lost track of their story and had not worked on it in a long time. Which was very sad, considering how interesting it was. Well, I decided not to push it; maybe after a few encouraging e-mails back and forth, I would convince them that it was worth continuing; the same thing has happened with me, in the past. I know the power of an encouraging e-mail, to unleash those floodgates of writing.

Things never got that far though.

I sent a response, and they sent a response asking me all about myself so we could get to know one another. Is this where I messed up again? To hear them tell it, no, I did not, but it's the same old story. My e-mail was very very long--over 60kb. I even apologized for it; I had wanted to answer their questions, and I really hoped we could get to know one another; most of my chatter was of course about my writing, since I loved their writing so much, I really hoped we could reciprocate and give feedback to each other. It didn't even get that far. I sent the long e-mail and...that was it. I have never received a response to it, even now, about a year later.

There WAS a bit more communication. I left a note on their journal meekly apologizing again maybe a month later. They apologized in return and said they had just been busy, but they did intend to get back to me. I think I made a mistake and I DID get one more e-mail from them but it too was just a short, "I intend to reply to your long e-mail by next month (or whatever)." I waited. And waited...anyone who reads this journal even semi-regularly knows the story. Months passed. I thought, are they busy with school? But it seemed like they were busy all the time. With one thing or another. Even when they weren't apparently busy, I did not hear back. I checked their journal for updates and they updated even more infrequently than they had before I had written them. I think I left another note again saying I was sorry or asking if they were okay or something but I'm not sure. I don't know if that was what prompted their entry insisting that if they were not replying to people, it was not personal, they were just VERY BUSY. And would get back to us. I don't know if they meant me. Because they never did get back to me.

Even more months passed. The journal was no longer updated. I checked less frequently...just like with the story. Finally I checked it much later and found a new entry, again talking about how busy they had been. They left their new e-mail address and begged people to e-mail them for their snail-mail address because they were so bored and lonely and wanted correspondence. I was tempted...

But didn't bother.

I just left a short note saying I wished we could have corresponded but I was sorry for bothering them or whatever, and even though they DID reply to that, I never read the response, and they never sent me that e-mail, and I have not been back to the journal since. Lest what I see upset me yet again.

You see...when they were asking for correspondence, all I could think was, I WOULD have e-mailed you, and even sent you snail mail...if I had ever had any reason to believe you WANTED to hear from me.

I would have sent you all sorts of e-mails asking about you and your work if I had thought you cared what I had to say.

And I would have been one of the biggest fans of your writing, at least that one story and its companions, if I had had any reason to believe that what I said actually mattered to you. I wanted to be your friend. I wanted us to send each other long blathery e-mails and share comments on each other's writing. Out of all the people I have run into online, YOU were one of the very, very few (so far, only two) who have REALLY clicked with me, as somebody I really did want to know--I honestly thought we had enough in common to be friends. With most people, I don't really care about them like that, but with you, I did. Yes, I admit, I did selfishly want you to read my writing--but that was because I respected your opinion, we write about similar things, and you did say you were interested. And I was already interested in yours. Even when you didn't reciprocate, I was still a fan of your work. I really did want to see how your story would end, and how others would begin.

I just don't understand why, even when you insisted you wished to hear from me, it apparently wasn't true. I know you were busy but you had time to ask for snail mail, and to do other things. I never would have been too busy to be your friend. I remember an entry of yours where you posted about how you just played games at night for a few hours. That was one time you could have replied to me.

And you would have had a fan and maybe a friend eventually.

And maybe you would not have been so despondent (?) as to erase your stories and your profile to simply say, "I suck. No more. Go away."

But I won't ever know for sure, because you did not reply, you did not seem interested in pursuing that offer of friendship and interest, and so I do not know what you are thinking or doing anymore. I do not read your journal lest I see you posting about how bored you are, how you want to hear from somebody, how you wish you had a reader or a friend or something (if you still even write), etc. Because all I will think is, *I* offered to be there for you. *I* let you know that I was interested, and I cared. Why wasn't *I* good enough?

And daily I sit and wonder whether I should delete you from my list or not, because you seem to have deleted me from your mind long ago.

I know you won't even read this to see how I feel. I am very much saddened and disappointed and discouraged. I WOULD have been there for you...if I'd had any reason to believe you wanted me to be. I really did care about you that much.

Even when you typed up, "I suck. No more. Go away," you apparently didn't think of me. I guess that answers all my questions...except for why. Why my offer of friendship wouldn't have counted. But no one ever answers that one, do they?

Though maybe I'm assuming incorrectly after all, and giving myself far too much credit, and they never wanted to be my friend in the first place. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened. I will never know.

I guess that's all, and all that ever will be. The one time I really tried, and one of the few times I really wanted it to work...and see what happened. Someone else did not want it to work...the one other person in this who mattered.