Between the insta-tears that happen every time I think of Jake and the disappointment that stabs me when I catch myself looking for him in the house, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking… mental organization, really. I am someone who thinks about thinking and find it necessary to brood. It sounds like an absolutely dismal thing, to brood for a few hours, but it is critical to my emotional well being. In times of high stress I retreat inward, reorganizing and tidying my role in real-life relationships. In reality it’s probably better categorized as a control tactic (and boy, am I a control freak).
One thing that consistently surprises me is how such an event can disturb individuals long-lost from my life. I’m not sure if I have a leak in my inner circle or their subconscious somehow picks up on my distress, but up they pop – and with them comes past baggage that I have no desire in helping unpack. Really, it infuriates me. How dare you add to my stress, encroach on my privacy, and think that you’re entitled to my time. It is so insulting that you try to use my grief as a springboard to push your own agenda.
I had a whole burn letter typed out, but sitting on it has made me realize nothing good will come from posting it. I’m not interested in opening the lines of communication. I don’t care anymore. I hope you find happiness and achieve your goals, but you no longer have a place in my life. I tried to tell you once before; I’m not going through it again.