I have never shied away from writing blogs to people. Sometimes I write them because I simply cannot put the words into real life what I want to say to them. Sometimes they have gone - they've left my life or passed away - and I feel this blog is the only time I have to tell them something. I've written to friends, family, co workers, to people I've briefly met and to people I will never meet. But now for the first time, I'm writing to someone who will not listen to me. So, for nearly all of you, this blog will be an entertaining story about a troublesome person in my life. One that, as you will soon find out about, I really don't care about anymore.
Let's begin where it all broke down - the reunion. When you see someone for the first time in a while it's never going to be easy sailing. Whether it's your best friend or a mere acquaintance, there is a distance created by being apart. There's moments of awkwardness, hesitation about which subjects to bring up - do you stick to the good ones or do you venture into the bad times you had to go through together? And really, after all this time, how much can you say you really know about each other?
It got off to a decent start, I guess. There was banter and laughs with the others and it seemed like maybe everything was going to be okay. I suppose we are both lucky we can joke about some of the things that happened; I am a fan of being able to laugh at the past. But as the night went on things started to go downhill, aided by our best friend and worst enemy: alcohol.
I knew at some point there would be an intense conversation. Imagine my relief - after months of thoughts and feelings and confusion, written only in this blog, I would be able to talk to you. But, oh, how it went so badly. It's a pet hate of mine, to ask me a question and then not bother to listen to my reply. Or even better, to tell me to explain then walk away without a comment, leaving me to my own emotional mess. But I pride myself on knowing myself better than you ever will, so I came prepared with the tissues, because I knew I couldn't get through a whole weekend without there being a few tears.
One of my favourite parts was the spun story about backing off because you couldn't bear the feelings. I should have picked you to run from emotions. Or perhaps I should have picked you to tell stories to try make me feel better. I guess I'll never learn which one was the truth. You asked me so many times whether I was mad at you and I said no every time, because I wasn't until we had this little chat. After that I was filthy mad with you, something I think you always wanted to try feel better about yourself.
Though perhaps a little thank you is in order for this night - you walking away meant I walked straight into the arms of another man. It's funny how distant one becomes when they're no longer the centre of attention.
There's a line which stands out to me in Really Don't Care: I can't believe I ever stayed up writing songs about you. That's what it was: Demi Lovato writes songs, I write blogs. Either way, you pour your emotions into words and a few months later it just seems like silly thoughts which never resonated with the intended target. Maybe that's what will happen again here - but at least I tried.
I don't like you and I don't care about you, but in a funny, twisted way I will always have a touch of love for you. That's what happens when you come on my emotional roller coaster ride, and I never forget those who climb aboard. That's nearly my whole story. There is just one thing left - the happy ending. Well it's simple: I am perfectly content with creating my own happiness and my own stories and memories with people I really care about.