Theft And Violence
Previous - this entry written on December 28, 2006 at 1:02 am - Next
*sighs* I feel like a sucker, is what I feel like. No, unlike the police, I don't think he made it up, that's not what I'm referring to. I guess it might be more accurate to say that I feel... easy. Like I can't even stick to a simple decision. Yeah, being there was the right thing to do. I know that, I honestly believe it, I feel it.
So... why does it hurt?
Because it's going against a decision I made. Because it's making me worry. Because it got me to offer something that... really, isn't what it may have sounded like. Oh, it's a safe place, all right... safe from shit like that, at least. Safe from me? No. HELL no. I wasn't kidding about making him earn it, and he knows it, and that knowledge is going to be enough to keep him away... so the offer was pretty much pointless. A waste of breath. It just causes more pain, to him because he is too afraid to take it, to me because I am too weak not to make it, and to a couple other people because I had given my word to sever ties and, obviously, am failing.
He needs someone there, to keep him safe, and he doesn't have it. He won't have it, not as long as he stays in that town, in that province, likely even in that country, and sucks to be him, but there's NOTHING I can do about it and I shouldn't even let myself be put in a position where I wish it were otherwise, let alone one where I feel guilty for not being able to help.
He chose this.
I have no responsibility for this shit, NONE, and though it may have been the morally right thing to do, I think it was a mistake to even spend as long as I did listening. He has his family, he has plenty of other 'net friends, he has the people he works with, he chose to follow a path that leads away from me and god fucking dammit I need to be strong enough to not let him string me along.
Even when he may not be doing it intentionally.
Even when he needs someone.
He doesn't need me.
My affections need a better 'off' switch than the one I've got.
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