moosenoise.♡

マヤ. (she/her). 31. Seattle. Slippers. ♡

[eleven-oh-five]

can you hear my voice through the storm?

[eleven-oh-five]

I’m starting to think this plant is depressed because you’re depressed, my dear husband.

[eleven-oh-five]

I just wrote the sentence, “…because my ex bf didn’t allow me to text/call him…” in a text. How sad that is for teenage me. She really held onto breadcrumbs of affection and called it enough.

[eleven-oh-five]

Thinking about it, after exchanging a few messages, I have so much I want to ask you, but I won’t. I also find that I want you to ask me things, but you won’t. I think it’s been so long that none of those questions are relevant or necessary anymore. Instead, unless you reach out further, I won’t initiate anything.

For all intents and purposes, I don’t actually need the answers to the questions I have. I can continue to live my life without ever knowing. I do appreciate the knowledge that you’re alive and doing better and that I had the opportunity to apologize for my behavior.

I understand now that we were stupid, selfish teenagers and I wanted to hurt you because I was hurting. However, I don’t blame myself for that just like I don’t blame you. We didn’t know any better and we were still learning how to be people with poor examples of what relationships looked like. I can only hope that you’ve grown just as I have and that one day you find happiness.

[eleven-oh-five]

This whole thing reminds me of this song from a band I loved in middle and high school. The music video has a girl who has a boyfriend who doesn’t give her the attention she wants. She happens upon an ad for a hypnosis sort of love potion thing. It comes with “Make Him Love You” and “Make Him Stop.” She throws away the latter thinking she won’t need it because she wants him to love her and give her attention. Over time he gets more obsessive and literally insane over her to the point where it ends with him trying to break down her door. I feel like I somewhere along the line during those two years he watched the first one, but I never knew and was never given the second tape.

[eleven-oh-five]

I’m sad for you, truly. But I’m not sure what you want from me.

[eleven-oh-five]

Why?

[eleven-oh-five]

Here was my replies:

“Interesting. Here I was thinking I’d get a message asking me to send Apple gift cards or Cash App some random account.”

“Is there something you wanted? You can’t honestly expect me to believe you rejoined social media after so long and decided to reach out for no reason.”

[eleven-oh-five]

Well, fuck. I wasn’t expecting this.

I decided to reply after all and said, “I can’t decide if you waited 12 years to send me that message or if this account has been hacked and that’s the reason for the friend request and message.”

I thought that was a pretty neutral response, but I wasn’t actually expecting to get a reply. I guess this is the door that I opened.

[eleven-oh-five]

Are you drunk or is this a hacker?

[eleven-oh-five]

I had the sudden realization that he’ll never play that game again. At least not multiplayer or with me. It’ll remind him too much of those late nights at your house during Covid lockdowns when we broke curfew to stay and play because it was our only source of human interaction outside of each other. You’ve been gone nearly 4 years now and yet it feels like just yesterday we were going over to your house. Your absence from our lives is still present.

[eleven-oh-five]

It occurred to me that you might have posted other things and that was correct. I was previously only able to see very few posts that were public and had my name in it. The other posts were either nonsensical ramblings or referenced things about me. It wasn’t obvious to anyone reading them, but I know. Some posts mirror language from messages you sent me. Others subtly reference things that only you and I would know how they’re related to me. Mostly, though, they just give the impression you’re having a mental breakdown. In a sick way, I’m glad. I’m glad you experienced a minuscule amount of the suffering you caused me for years.

But I do hope you’re not still suffering. It’s been long enough that I hope you’ve healed. I know that I have. I heard from someone that you had this breakdown and disappeared for a while. When you came back, you weren’t any better than you were before. I was told you were all messed up, which checks out since you reached out two and three years after we broke up. I was too terrified to respond to your messages after you came to my house.

I’m no longer afraid of you. I’m no longer that girl you once knew. I’ve forgotten the sound of your voice, the feel of your arms around me, and how it felt when you’d choke me for talking too much. I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done, but I’ve moved on. I forgive you. More importantly, I forgive myself and I’m proud to have achieved my goal. Instead of harboring hate and ill will toward you, I got my revenge by finding happiness. Life is far from perfect and I still struggle sometimes, but I’ve moved on. I only hope that you have, too.

[eleven-oh-five]

I think nothing will come of it.

[eleven-oh-five]

Someone made a good point to me. Younger me never got closure. I ran away. Now I’m a full adult and I don’t need it, but I’m curious. I’m in a better place. Maybe it’s worth finding out what prompted this request. I can’t stop myself from wondering. I’m not sure what to do.

[eleven-oh-five]

I reread the messages you sent me from 2010.

Your ramblings make much less sense now. I’m wondering if it’s because I’ve long forgotten the sound of your voice and the way you speak and type.

Parts of what you said are a stark contrast to what I remember experiencing. You put me on a pedestal in your mind when I left you, but when you had me, I was as unwanted and irritating as gum under your shoe.

Do you not remember the entire summer vacation where I wasn’t allowed to text you because I was “too needy” for wanting to talk to you everyday and try to spend time together? You got pissed at me for asking to talk to you on the phone on your birthday after I broke the no texting rule to send a birthday message. You had other rules that summer but I can’t remember them now.

And my replies? I’m sad for her. Sad for my past self who apologized for hurting her abuser when she found someone who treated her with kindness. She still accepted the blame for your poor behavior during the relationship and said she was a bad friend.

But you? You came to my house at 22:00 two years after we broke up asking after me and begging my family to make me talk to you again. You sent me messages a year after that asking that we talk, asking for forgiveness, asking for friendship. You even begged. A year after that, a friend told me you posted long ramblings with my name in it on your page and they also made no sense.

I’m married to that boy now. The one you said you felt sick thinking about me with and who you blamed for ruining our friendship post breakup. There was never going to be a friendship. I was just too afraid of you at the time to turn down your insistence that we stay friends.

You told me so many unhinged things that made no sense in those messages. Your first one recounting how we met, for example. You paint yourself as kind, empathetic, and in awe of my presence. But then why did you hit me and scream at me for looking at the planes? The planes were how I survived what you were doing to me.

It’s been 15 years. I forgive you, you know. I don’t forgive you because you deserve it. I forgive you to free myself and heal the scars you left in your wake.

I’m just curious why you would send me a friend request now. No accompanying message to explain. Just a request a week ago. I’m unsure of how you thought I’d respond to that. I have no intention of doing anything about it. It will sit there with all the other ignored requests.

I hope you’re well, though, and have had a good life.

[eleven-oh-five]

For what purpose do you have for sending me a friend request 15 years later? I may forgive you for everything you did to me, but that doesn’t mean I’d like to initiate a friendship or any form of contact with you. I can’t decide if I want you to send a message explaining yourself or not, but either way I’m not responding to your request. Best of luck in life, truly.

[eleven-oh-five]

Sometimes I read a book and before I’ve even gotten very far, I’m already annoyed at the FMC. Like, did they really have to write her that way? Pining after the trainer when the whole point was to be trained for the contest to marry nobility? And the trainer somehow isn’t noticing this, ofc, despite living centuries.

Why do I keep reading books my friends who like books I hated for one reason or another recommend and expect a different outcome? It’s not that their likes or dislikes are invalid, they’re just less analytical than I am. Apparently I’m incapable of reading without over analyzing.

Now I need to decide if I’m going to begrudgingly read the rest of this book or DNF it.