A roller-fucking-coaster

…of a weekend I had.

Photo by Stas Knop

I have been feeling down because of my ex — a bit more so lately than a couple of weeks ago.

This past week I sent her a couple of emails, because a couple of things of a “hell of a coincidence” magnitude happened and I’m a sucker for sharing these experiences with the people I feel they tie me to. I was also trying to see if she still hated my guts, since I said those really horrible things to her a couple of months back.

It seemed like she was over the hate, she responded in a somewhat even positive note the first time, and after exchanging a couple of light emails, I left it at that.

But then a day or two later something else came up, and I just had to email her again, and I started it with “Sorry, I promise I’m not gonna be writing every day, but I think you’d appreciate this.” A day went by, no answer, I was like “OK, alright, no big deal.” Later I found out that my Outlook crapped itself, so I had to restart it and as I did, an email from her— a response to mine — popped up, followed by another one, in which she was voicing her disappointment over me not responding to the earlier one…

So I did, and we had a nice exchange, which she followed up by saying we could/should follow each other on social media again. So I started following her.

It did take her time to return the gesture, but in the meantime, my mind started wandering. Thinking about whether or not this sudden openness means “anything”.

I thought, OK, this could go either way, so I responded to her email, trying to bring up old memories, to see if they evoke anything in her, to see where she stands…

And see where she stands I did — after her reply.

It was still nice and civil, even kind and casual, but she did say something about me better shooing those memories away.

So…

Yeah…

Why do you want to be social media friends, why did you share things with me about your days, about your kid, why did you get mad that I didn’t respond — if there is nothing behind it all?

Like one of your favourite singers sang “I don’t wanna be friends.”

Why the sudden need to communicate if there is no endgame?

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Decompression Chamber

Decompression Chamber

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This is my De(com)pression Chamber, a vehicle I use to (com)municate my thoughts to decompress as I, hopefully, emerge from the depths of depression.