SPPE LIEN NAGOL part DEUX

I hated Logan with a passion for the longest time. I trully came to know the meaning of hate, because I'd never hated anything more than him, so completely, and in such satisfaction and solace. I'm sure he hated me as well, in fact, I know he did, but I cannot imagine that his hatred was greater, or more rightfully desearved, than mine of him. It didn't help that he had also began dating the girl who he swore never to date, throwing away yet another friendship of mine, and smirking all the while. Indeed, she and I have not been friends since.

Over time, however, I came into the mindset that what better to feel than a complete nothing as appose to any sort of emotion, so that I am even less associated with him than I normally would be. This didn't last very long, however. I decided it would be fun to toy with him, so I got on my brother's screen name one night and gave him a shy and believeable hello. His responce was...mostly what I expected. That he missed Steve and I, that he was sorry for what he'd done, that he'd hated me but I had more right to hate him, and that he was the biggest asshole ever. Actually, I've the conversation saved on a disk, just in case I'm ever in the need of blackmail. (TOTALLY kidding here) He also said that he'd give anything to go back and make things right, and to make me not hurt anymore. So, after a few more conversation between "Stevo" and Logan, I decided to give him a few very hard levels of knowing me to beat, which have been listed on here before. He beat them, we met up and I treated him to lunch.

I had it in my mind to possibly use him and abuse him, but I was more interested in not having to deal with him anymore--I hoped that that would settle his conscience and he would finally leave me alone forever. Nope. We kept meeting up at different people's parties, having deep dsicussions of what was, what could have been, and our own independent lives in general. I felt that we had a strange sort of connection, one that's hard to find, because I felt and still feel that we know each other so completely, yet are so lost in that area at the same time.

Finally, the summer came, I graduated, and left for two months. I thought of him while I was in Bristol...I don't know why, but I did. I knew I never wanted to be with him, but something was pulling me...in August, I came back to Missouri. Some night I had a dream that Logan was parading me around on his shoulders amongst a crowd, and Lauren was in a corner with a scorned face. A week later I talked to him--turns out he'd broken up with her a week ago. Oh, I said. I didn't mention the dream. I'd asked a friend how they were doing, and she said fine at the time, but apparently that wasn't so.

I thought, for a while, that I'd give him my virginity. I mean, we'd sure grown a lot in the little time we'd known each other, and experienced so many different and new feelings and things together, that I thought I might as well. I was nearly posotive that he'd not given his own away, because he was so timid in that area when we were together, and in all the two years he was with the girl before me, they only kissed. He was all too ready for that, of course, but I learned by his slip of words and misunderstood messages that he had given his...to Lauren. How...blank, I felt. How meanningless. Call me an inconsiderate repatious snob, but in my opinion that relationship never meant anything, and he admitted that it ended up not meanning anything; that it became so pointless after that that a breakup was inevitable. I thought on it for a while more...but by that time I was already out of "the mood" and once again aloof on the subject of sex. Still, I feel rather robbed, as silly as it may seem.

Sitting here, thinking about it now, I will not give this last innocense I hold onto to Logan. I feel, I know, that he isn't worthy of it...there was only one person that was, I think, but I wasn't ready for it when I had my chance, and that's fine with me. I would have been a real wreck if I decided to go ahead and go for it. And I know that He made the right decision for himself, and hope it meant something to him, because I think it did.

Now, I feel, I am completely out of the Logan loop. No more do I think of what could have been, or how much I hate him, or how much I *want* him, or how he should feel about me. Once I wished him to never find happiness again...and now I hope he does. I hope, though, that he doesn't think that I am what he can fall back on whenever he doesn't succeed. I hope that he doesn't think I am his lost puppy, or that I want him in any way other than a friend. Lately I've been thinking about it, and he reminds me, more than ever, of my brother, the way he thinks and acts, and how "hopelessly romantic" he is and loves to be called. The way his mind works is just...funny, to me. Now, finally, after all of the pain, the loss, the complete turmoil and the reguvination of myself...I can finally think of him and smile.


PS- A lovely little note, one of many, circa April 17, 2004

Dear Logan,

Words cannot describe the emotional distress and turmoil I’ve been through these last few weeks. I’ve never been treated so ugly by someone so important in my life, ever. No, I’m not a saint, but you are, by far, not one either. I will refrain from name-calling, though God knows I’ve a book-full of things to call you, because I find it disrespectful, irrelevant, and immature. Looking back at how affectionate and loving you use to be, it’s hard to believe how brutish it seems you’ve become. I feel as though I don’t even know who you are anymore.

The strange thing is, this change didn’t occur slowly. The first time I ever saw it it was pertifying, but I thought surely it was a one time thing, considering it was when I broke up with you, for you. But it has lingered there ever since, always waiting for me to get too close to the chained dog, so it can push me into the dog’s dirt circle. I don’t know where the hell this rage came from, but surely it’s been there for years, due to the enormity of it’s size.

As you become more and more bold, you say more and more hurtful things to me. I don’t know if you’re just testing the water, or you take pleasure in my sensitivity, but either way it hurts. You try to threaten me by denying me services, or the "privilege" of talking to you. If talking to you meant hearing the things you say to me, I’d gladly sacrifice my speech. Whatever you dish out, if I even make a joke back in that same context, you take offense. It seems as though I barely say anything and you take for granted that I’m pissed.

I feel weakened. It must make you feel powerful to call me all of those things without me responding in the same manner. I can’t think of myself being so gutless and cowardly, yet I am. I’ve let you do all those things, so what more could I be than that? You’ve slowly been breaking down my character, and I bet you’re glad of it right now. I think, when it all comes down to it, I’d rather be slapped by your hand than your words. Actually, I’d look forward to it. You arise a feeling inside of me that wants to be destructive, but I‘ve done my best in keeping myself in check. I’ve cried, and for the first time in years I’ve said out loud that I hate something. Do you know what that something is?

You only tell me things I "want" to hear, when in reality, when I ask a question, it’s genuinely because I want to know the answer for what it is. You’ve even been "courageous" enough to "joke" about the way you feel with my very good friends. Would you be courageous enough to say it 2 inches away from my face? Surely you’ve never displayed this side of you to anyone else, or at least not outside of your household. If you do, hasn’t anyone warned you or pointed out your warped attitude? You’re the worst on the internet, when you’re most confident, because you don’t have to bear the look in my eyes or the sound of my voice. The way you behave can be described as nothing less than atrocious or devilish.

How is it possible that you’ve been so important to me, yet you’ve said and done the worst things directed towards me that I’ve ever witnessed? You’ve treated me like I’m a complete moron, when the fact is I knew exactly what was going on, but I chose to let the obvious go unsaid. You’ve made me insecure about myself by calling me a numerous amount of names and descriptions which I refuse to repeat. You’ve hurt me worse than anyone has ever hurt me, and you wouldn’t believe how deep that hurt goes. You couldn’t even fathom it if I told you.

I know this letter probably won’t get through to you, because it is written in first and second person, which is the least convincing writing format in a persuasive essay. However, if you displace yourself from this situation, or read these again in a few days or weeks, maybe you’ll better comprehend it. I have been left hopeless in the gutter, and I have only one hope left: that you never treat anyone else the way you’ve treated me. I feel that no one deserves to be exploited in such a way, and with luck you’ll never have to be in that position. I’m trying to be friends with you, but you still have hopes that are now barely fragments in a dream to me. With every situation, there’s something to be learned. I don’t know about you, but I know, somehow, I’ve learned a lot.

Empty promises. Hours of waiting. Toleration or degradation. And what was it all worth? Twenty bucks says you’ve smoked pot in the past 2 weeks.

Your parents must be proud. I know I am.

My Love

Rene Montague