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How much pain did you cause?

created by jessicapierce

(idea) by jessicapierce (1.5 mon) (print)   ?   (I like it!) 1 C! Mon Mar 27 2000 at 8:39:21

Sometimes I forget and think "none," but really, I saw him flinch and not stop flinching for months.

(idea) by wonko (1.2 y) (print)   ?   (I like it!) Sat Apr 29 2000 at 9:40:21

Far too much. But she kept forgiving me. By the end, I felt terrible. I told myself it was her fault, and yeah, some of it was...but I caused her a lot of unnecessary pain when I tried to get her to change. I'm sorry, Meagan.

(idea) by Jamyn (1.3 y) (print)   ?   (I like it!) 1 C! Tue May 30 2000 at 0:30:14

.. enough that she still hates me. It's been 3 years. Sad really, she used to think of me, and I didn't care. Now, she hates me, and I think of her sometimes, and wonder why I did the things I did. I tried to talk to her, to apologize after the breakup, but she would have none of it. Wouldn't even talk to me on the phone - as soon as she heard my voice, she hungup. What a change. I haven't tried to talk to her in years.. I still talk to her brother on the rare occasion, but rarely, as it brings up bad memories.

An example I guess of how much hate a woman can have if you do her wrong - I hadn't thought about her or talked to her in about 2 years. I thought most of the animosity she had was drained out, and she had moved on. I was driving home from work about a month ago, and a local radio station does a show called "what's down Atom's Pants" where they give you 3 descriptions of an object supposedly down his pants, and if you guess right, you get tickets to a concert, or whatever. Anyway, I'm driving home, he does his hints, and people start to call up and guess, broadcast live on the radio. Fine. After about 10 callers, she called up. I froze - I knew it was her, being with someone for a few years, you can't help but recognize their voice instantly - so I called her house when I got home to say hey. She hung the phone up so violently 3-4 times I think she broke the phone. So much for getting over the hurt... Apologies after the fact mean nothing sometimes; there are some things you can't apologize for. *sigh*

I guess life is about learning. I learned to never try to change someone; let them be who they want to be, or they will most likely hate you in the end. I've never seen a woman pour out that much hate and aggression in such a small amount of time before in my life. So much for a clean breakup. I guess I'm proud of her really, she became a very independent, "no bullshit" person, but in the process she changed from the person I knew to a person I don't..

At least I've changed now. Funny how attempts to change others can lead to you making changes in yourself instead.

(idea) by birdonmyshoulder* (6.4 y) (print)   ?   (I like it!) 1 C! Tue May 30 2000 at 20:39:36

Enough to make him turn away, tucking his hands into his sleeves like a little boy. Enough to make him think of me when he closed his eyes before sleeping. Enough to gnaw at him from the inside until his pain consumed my memory. More than I will ever know.

(idea) by ril (7.7 mon) (print)   ?   (I like it!) 1 C! Sat Jul 29 2000 at 1:31:25

I'd mark it off as another accomplishment as I saw him cry. They would all cry, I could make them do it. I'd carry on my role until I knew it was time. I could take their dreams and slowly rip them apart between my hands as if it were a piece a paper and I'd force them to watch in agony. I could pick one out anywhere - walking down a street, sitting in a corner in a club, the words upon a screen. Those kind of men, those kind of people, who were so ready to love. So ready to be loved, but were either too shy or simply too misunderstood. I would show them that love and take theirs, then I'd crush them. Step on them, under the heel of my shoe and watch them cry.

I hurt.

I wanted them to hurt like I did. I wanted to know that there were people in the world that felt the same. I wanted to destroy myself and I sure as hell wasn't going down alone.

I'm sorry.

I am. I know I took something from each of them. I could see it in their faces as I watched them break. One of them calls me up every few months, plastered and incoherent, and begs me to love him. He's not moved in five years, still in place, in his limbo, wanting me to love him again. I'm sorry.

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