Remembering an old friend of ours. I do have aggression issues. I do allow myself to stay sick. I do lash out when I get interrupted.
All of that stems from trauma. I have aggression issues because it’s how I survived. I lash out when I’m interrupted because I’m scared if I let someone interrupt me I’ll be forgotten. I’ll fade into the background and never be allowed to speak again. I let myself stay in a bad mindset because it’s easier than trying to pull myself out of it and failing and knowing I’ll never be able to get better. It’s easier if I pretend the reason I’m not okay is because I don’t try, rather than the simple fact that I’m stuck like this.
And yeah, I was a bit aggressive. So what? You wanted me to communicate more and I did. I told you that you were rude and that it isn’t okay. You told me that hurt your feelings. I told you that I’m sorry you felt that way, but that it doesn’t change your actions. Because it doesn’t.
I was most hurt about the fact that you told me and expected me to pass the message along to Aiden. That wasn’t fair to him. He deserved an explanation. We aren’t one. He didn’t deserve you pinning my shit onto him. I fucked up. I was shitty. I’m still shitty. Aiden wasn’t. He was hurting and coping with it. Sure, he vented a lot about how he was doing, and sure, he didn’t do much to fix that, but he was in a fucked up situation. He didn’t have the aggression problems. He wasn’t the one who snapped at you. You lumped him in with me and expected me to do the hard part of telling the sweetest person I know that you wouldn’t even give him a proper reasoning on why you were leaving.
I don’t know. I’m rambling. I miss him. We were friends for so long. I worry about him.
