You may or may not give any credence to this, but… it seems that you and I have both been afflicted with a deep wave of malaise/ depression since.. well, since mid-August when you dumped me so cold-heartedly only 48 hours before I was to come to you, at your begging, to spend two weeks in your arms. Here we are, 3500 miles apart, each of us essentially having near-breakdowns since that horrid time.. Though I’m betting you say you’re unhappy to me as a veil behind which to fade out entirely on communicating, and in fact you’re doing just fine.
I do fully believe that there is a positive reason as to why you and I met and became so mind-blowingly, once-in-a-lifetime enchanted with each other as we did… yet its destiny remains so tragically unfulfilled. Have you given thought even once about why it is that both of our spirits were at such a pinnacle when we met, yet both have essentially unraveled since you turned your back on the promised splendor and the wondrous galaxy of possibilities that were wide open to us, together? Do you purposely push away from what we *were* to each other?
Never again will I feel as destined to be in someone’s arms as I felt in your embrace on our corner. But I’m no longer under the delusion that we will ever see each other’s star-dappled faces nor kiss each other’s divinely sugared lips again in this lifetime, or that you will ever offer me the explanation that a good woman like me deserves as to what coldness took over in you when you absolutely coventrated my heart.
You should never, *ever* have declared that you loved me and were in love with me a hundredfold, enough times to actually believe you (compounded by statements such as, “*we* have a cooker”, “*we* have a tent”, “*our* bed”, “*we* have money towards a wee trip to Bute”, etc.), let alone said it at all if you knew that you were insincere and would only take those enormous feelings away. “I love you like I’ve never known was possible to love someone”, you said. “I feel like we’ve known each other through many lifetimes. You’ve been my companion through all of space and time, and I just had to find you, I’ve been waiting for you for this whole life..” – what a boatload of shite. You don’t know the first fucking thing about love. You never offered me anything remotely resembling love.. other than words, but we both know that you are not a man of your word.
I’m still trying to grasp for an understanding that goes beyond your only excuse of “symptomatic of irresponsibility and immaturity” for the cause of this hurt that is still so unbearable to live with. (Symptomatic? No, straight-up cruel is what you are.) What is it about me that incited such callous hurtfulness in you? I need to know why you did this to me and to us, Alasdair… I need to know because you continue to haunt my dreams and I wake up weeping uncontrollably, and it has to stop.
Do you still hold in your possession that tiny yet pure and courageous red heart that I entrusted to you? You held the fullness of my heart right there, right in the palm of your lovely hand for quite a time.. but you only toyed with it instead of treasuring it. I now know that every single word you ever said and wrote to me after our union, even on that dark August day – about making plans to see each other again as “a way forward”, about your offer to chip in on the costs incurred due to cancellation – were nothing but bullshit and lies. I sense that you couldn’t care less about me now – all you really care about is your own ego and the chase, the reeling-in.. you said as much on LG’s balcony, and I should have heeded that initial confession and resisted your lure. You once said to me that you weren’t into playing games – but really, that’s all that you ever did with me. Mark my words: you will only reap what you sow.
I now even question if you really did sleep with your previous hole oh-so-conveniently mere hours after professing once again your “deep, labyrinthine, once-in-a-lifetime” love for me, or if you were sleeping with her the whole time – could you not have found the courage to speak the truth? No… no, I suppose something as fundamental as that never occurred to you, so you ended up both smashing my heart and costing me several hundred dollars in cancellation fees while not giving a flying fuck.
Do you ever think about how I didn’t do anything to deserve being treated so horribly and carelessly by you, or does your cowardly heart of stone remain unscathed when you profoundly hurt someone, and then just flutter away without an ounce of accountability or remorse? If your only reply is “Because I can, because I could”, then… yes, the terms “narcissist” and “sociopath” come to mind (I remember you once blurted out “I’m NOT a sociopath” vis-a-vis nothing, and wondered if you had indeed been accused of such before – I should have heeded that next crimson-red flag). All I can say is… karma will certainly get you. I hope you’re proud of your narcissistic, infantile, remorseless and prickish ways, and that it haunts you forever.
And now you reach out four months later, at 5am your time, plastered and having listened to our album. Just as i suspected.. you only bother to communicate when you’re tripping out into self-loathing, and even then, it’s all about you. Besides, you’ve supposedly obliterated all memory of what that Stories song/ album once meant – on purpose, you said – so why bother me with your nostalgia? I was just a b-side to you. Even if you claim you don’t often pay attention to lyrics (yet at one point, the Alasdair that I knew was a-gog at the beyond-coincidental timing and happenstance of certain lyrics), you didn’t consider for one split second that sending me a track entitled “Darling”- the term of affection I bestowed upon you that first day you returned to the U.K., which made you swoon so mightily that you lost your breath and reveled in it every time I said it to you thereafter – from your lone Canadian music purchase/ “our” album, replete with a link that includes its regretful lyrics, wouldn’t carry with it any subliminal weight?? Seriously?!
FUCK OFF, you cowardly and remorseless scabby cunt. Go hide in your brassy hole of convenience, and stomp that tiny red heart which I placed in your hand into a hundred splintered pieces while you’re at it. Only then will you grasp any visible notion of what you’ve done to me. I will never, ever be okay with how you ended the wonder that was us.