It's Friday night and I'm about to check my email one last time before going to bed. Quite often, no one writes or leaves a message at this hour, but I see there is one new message in my inbox.
When I click on 'inbox' I see it's from J. He replied to my message from when I ran into him at Holt Renfrew.
Before I begin reading it, I scroll down quickly to see how long it is; probably 750 words. My heartrate speeds up and it feels like it's moving up my chest and into my throat. It's hard to swalow. I want to read it all, but I also want to delete the message.
Certain phrases catch my eye...You are a stranger to me.
I have been so consumed with what happened after.I very well could have blocked you on Facebook.
I know I didn't like to see what you were doing.
I had day dreams of punching you in the face.
'I have never hated a man so much in my life'.'... he still feels [negatively towards me] -- I can't have him in my life'. I didn't feel obligated inform you I wasn't attending [my housewarming]...I don't know where to go from here...
In short, J blames me for what he did to me. It's a simple case of projection: I can't hate myself for my stupid decisions, so I'm going to hate you because I don't want to admit I'm - always - wrong.
I didn't accept his erratic behaviours and ridiculous attempt at becoming friends. I'm not one of his (oblivious) friends that he can steamroll over and have them come back just so he can do it again. This wasn't going to be an abusive relationship; I wasn't going to sit there and take it. This time the physically weaker person became stronger when they left.
After reading it, I pass it along to a few people and they all have the same reaction: J has clearly gone crazy, is confused (that's what happens when you live in a bubble), does not know what he wants and I am lucky not to have such a person in my life - I am too good for that.
Part of me agrees with those statements and the other part doesn't. You can't press delete on an email like you can with a person. They'll always be a part of you, even after they move or pass away. J still has feelings for me. No matter how much he claims to hate me, no one would spend the better part of a week composing a response to an ex that's verging on the biblical (in terms of length and dramatics).
I haven't deleted the email; it's saved on my account. It will be seen again and its full contents will be printed in black on white paper when the book is released.