He Said Nobody's Perfect

Angela's email hit me out of nowhere. Said she needed space. That she couldn't be online every night like she always had been. Space? I knew what that meant. Everyone knows what that really means. Some part of me had seen it all coming, much as I wanted to deny it. Is it sad part of me felt vindicated reading it?

I told her exactly what I thought of that. Sent her a long email. Don't think I'm heartless. If anyone she's the heartless one, not me! She doesn't mean it, I think. She just doesn't think about anyone else. She not only wears her heart on her sleeve but beats you senseless over the head with it. Messy, that's what this whole thing is. And I didn't start it. That so-called "friend" of hers did, polluting her mind against me. She's so flighty like that. It's just the way she's wired I guess. Sensitive is a better word. Overly sensitive is closer to the truth though. Tell her what she wants to hear and she goes running to it. She can't make up her own mind.

I wasn't expecting the nasty response I got. She's not normally a vindictive person. I don't think I've ever really seen her angry with me. She's not the type. She just retreats inward and turns everything into a pity party. I hate it when she does that. I'd rather she yell at me. I can handle yelling. I'm used to that. But depressive crying? There's no getting through to her when she's like that - it's just this endless cycle of how horrible she is. Why can't she stand up for herself? I'm fucking tired of doing it for her. Let someone else put up with her. I'm glad to be rid of her. I mean look at what she finally wrote to me. Abusive? Ha.

What about not even coming forward to tell me any of this? Having to do it in an email? Cowardly and juvenile, that's what it is. She thinks I can't handle the truth? Then that makes two of us sweetheart. Maybe it's the last thing we can agree on.

We were supposed to be together forever. Two old farts in rocking cars with dogs and cats on the porch the grandkids playing in the front yard. They'd get all grossed out when we share a kiss that still has fire to it. Always together, always laughing, always being there for each other. And now this? It's like waking up from a dream to discover you're living in a nightmare. Were the last eight years a dream? They feel like it, especially our stories. It was another life. Another universe. And now what? What happens there? Does it all evaporate away? A silent armageddon of all our perceived memories.

I shouldn't care.

But if that's the case, why am I crying? Why do her words bother me so much? Fuck her. She doesn't deserve any tears from me. One time she might have been my angel, saved me from a lot of things back then, but in the end? What did she amount to? A hole in my heart?

I sign on and see that she's blocked me. I can tell these things. I've had to do it myself. I send an email. Then another. Nothing. I call. I scream into her answering machine. No answer. I cry out for her to talk to me. I give her three days tops, at first. She can't hold out without me. I know how she is. She needs me.

But then there's three days. Then a week. Then a month. I'm starting to build up this wall of thorns. Everything reminds me of her and it hurts. I know she's ignoring me and it's driving me crazy. She can't do this! Why won't she talk to me? Why can't we work it out? All of her I love you forever crap was such bullshit. I just...

Why Angela? What did that girl say to you to make you turn on me like an animal? Were you just waiting for the opportunity? Maybe I just didn't see that you had changed for the worst. You weren't the happy-go-lucky girl I met eight years ago. Who are you?

Now you're just too clingy and too whiny like a little kid. You tell me I read your mind and yet I can't tell what you're thinking. And what's worse you know what you want me to do and you won't tell me. How am I supposed to know? I suppose I'm guilty of it myself, but at least I admit that. You? You won't admit to anything. You think just because you're slightly older that you know more than me. Welcome to Reality. The world doesn't revolve around you, Angela. You don't know everything.

You get angry when I don't tell you what I want, but I told you already. I don't know what I want. Maybe I'm just not meant to be happy. But are you even happy, Angela? Are you? When you come to me crying looking for attention and pats of encouragement you lap it up like a thirsty man drinks water. Why do you need me to say anything when you don't believe me anyway? You treat my crits like meals, picking out what you like and tossing the rest. Is that all I am to you? Just a "yes" man? And then you go and listen to other people who tell you exactly what I said! And you say, "we'll they're a professional, I value their opinion" - thanks for caring so deeply about mine in that case, Angela. Maybe I should say what I really think. You never put in any effort at all anyway, then you complain when you don't get very far. You know how I got good? Hard work. Not whining. You should try it Angela.

I should be happy you're gone... Why am I still crying over you? I lash out at you, but don't even know why anymore. Are you listening Angela? Are you? I'm screaming! I want to be heard over your white noise. You were wrong. I'm not abusive. You're the abusive one. Playing with my heart. Telling me all those lies when behind that mask you're not happy with me. I know the truth about you. You're lucky I don't tell the world just what kind of person you really are.

Sorry, I couldn't fit your perfect mold, sweetheart, but you're in for a big surprise, even though you won't believe it from my mouth:

Nobody's perfect.

... Even you.


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Author's Note: This is a response to my #FridayFlash "Never Good Enough" since a couple people asked to hear the guy's side of things. I hope this shows that he's not necessarily a villain since codependent relationships are damaging to both people involved.
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