Tuesday, May 2, 2000

fight with leslie

you know what, charlie? i don't want to talk to you. i'm over this, i'm above this bullshit, i don't have time for it, i don't want to deal with it, i gain no pleasure from talking about it, or talking to you in general, in fact, i'm rather disgusted by you right now. run and lock your door, bitch

On Wed, 03 May 2000 01:35:04 EDT "Maurice Q"

leslie: a couple of things. speaking on the subject of cognitive dissonance and character flaws, amnesty and pacifism vs. beating people with guitars and vaccum cleaners. practice what you preach, you violent bitch. and i know you don't like the word bitch, but i don't care (probably part of the facade, right?)

and i can't even believe you're going to criticize me for telling people about you beating me, i have not told anybody save for rebecca and nora (two of my closer friends with here) about the spiff between you and I. you, on the other hand have told just about anybody who would listen to your sordid, oh please pity me tale. rebecca has told me you tell random people about the fact that you hate me (keith, nora, etc.). i on the other hand try to keep what i thought was between you and me, between you and me, i don't feel the need to air my dirty laundry. today was the first day i told anybody about this, and this was just kim, keith, and maggie (all ra's who i feel comfortable with talking about the violence you directed towards me).

and i was already to make up with you last night and today, but both times you made that impossible tripping over your own smugness, getting into semantics, the meaning of shitty when i was trying to have a serious discussion about our friendship or lack thereof, but you could not do it, you skirted the subject of your shitty treatment towards me, a supposed friend (at the time? at least i thought so) --- and so it was only then that i had had my fill of you and your shittiness (whatever the fuck you want to interpret that to mean), you cocky bitch, and i'd like to say with a bit of delight: go eat shit, i'm through with you, i thought i could possibly be friends with you again, but today you refused even that option, so please you are no longer a part of my life, so do not call my room at 9 in the morning or whatever the fuck silly games you continue to play, and it feels so so good to say that i don't give a shit about you, and to say it honestly, to have the weight of you and the emptionial strige you brought with you off my back, the pain you enjoyed inducing in my feelings, just your utter lack of care for me,, no more do i have to deal with it, and i have never sent a copy of the e-mails you have written me to anyone so what the fuck you are talking about i don't know

so i guess just go to hell and please stop throwing yourself into my life by throwing huge objects at me with non benign intentions. yeah yeah and the preacherman said can i hear an amen

charlie q

----Original Message Follows----
From: leslie j
To: indigopig@hotmail.com
Subject: did you want to see me broken?
Date: Wed, 3 May 2000 00:26:50 –0500

in all earnesty, i have a gut feeling that you won't read this, and that you'll delete it and go on your merry way, singing 'all in the family' and screaming about shane. of course, that's not to suggest that either of those things are the problem at all; i'm all about singing and screaming (obviously)--i only mean to say that i'm taking a big chance here. i feel like you'll probably read this and reply with a too-long diatribe about the fact that 'i'm making character judgements' or a too-angry conflagration of words. oh, or you could just delete it after reading the first line. maybe not, though. maybe i'm being too stereotypical and assuming that you won't do something 'out of character'. i'm sort of hoping so, but you know how that goes. you can't always get what you want. so did you forward the other e-mails to rebecca yet? and nora, too, inevitably? and, out of necessity, your mom? have you told keith bentele about the vacuum cleaner thing yet? how about signs, you could post signs. you could get new college on your side. you could prove to yourself that you're not as unjustified as you thought and that you have a point in your actions and your anger. i'm starting to think that i can't just hint around with you. i've never really gotten that impression from anyone else, i don't know what to do about it. maybe i should say, then, what i'm hinting at: i feel like you need others' approval for your actions. that's all good and fine; you're co-dependant. i don't care about that, i mean, there are, what, 600,000 codependants in the world? there's nothing wrong with it. i can accept it. the problem, however, lies in the fact that you pretend not to be. you, like oh so many others (not naming any names here) are pretending to be something you're not. you're trying so hard, you've almost got yourself convinced. (keep in mind, this is all my opinion; i don't know if that needs a disclaimer, but the fact is, character judgements are just that-character judgements. they're not supposed to be bipartisan, they exist for a purpose) like, in a lot of ways, i feel like you're pretty sure of yourself. you're pretty clear about your facade. i feel like you believe it. just earlier, just earlier today, i feel like you were telling me all about how you don't care what other people think of you and how they feel about you, even if they are your friends, even if they are your mother, and they did set you on fire. and you've said that to me before, that you don't care whether what you say offends me or hurts my feelings or whatever, that you're not in it for other people's acceptance. which, too, is perfectly fine and acceptable, but usually, it's one or the other, not both. and if you don't know this, then you don't know me very well at all (which would actually not be that surprising), but one of few things in the world i can't abide is falsification. in other words, i hate it when people feel compelled to pretend to be something they're not. as i'm sitting here writing this, i'm continually thinking to myself, 'what's the point?', you know, 'why bother?' why bother being mad and throwing vacuum cleaners (i've never done that before, by the way)? why am i wasting my energy on this? i should get over this. i should be like charlie. i shouldn't let it affect me. i should remove myself from the situation. i shouldn't care about this. this is ridiculous, this is an absurd idea.

self-pity in its early stages is as snug as a feather mattress. only when it hardens does it become uncomfortable. - maya angelou

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