I don't know if I will ever see him online again. Maybe he'll think to look here. Maybe I'll actually send this letter snail-mail. Maybe not. But it's here... I wrote it quickly. Angry. Hurt. I meant it, I have meant ALL of this. I wish he could have understood me.

---

I'll be damned if I'm going to go through this twice. At least this time I know what it is you're doing, know that I might as well try to forget you too. At least this time I have some idea why you decided to amuse yourself elsewhere.

Got your ego a bit singed, did you? You say you read them all, every diary entry... did you notice how many times just the fact that you were online got mentioned? Did you get any clue as to how much I showed you, how much I told you, how much I actually opened myself for you, because I wanted you to understand me? Apparently not... apparently all you saw was what YOU wanted to see.

And for some reason you wanted me to be a monster, didn't you? You decided that I had taken advantage of you, that everything I had done was some sort of joke. How was it you put it? "I think you online people must have some deep down serious problems." Didn't I tell you that, that I wasn't sane, wasn't normal? But didn't I also say that I cared anyway, that I knew what I was and who I was and wanted you to understand?

Daya. I tried everything, didn't I? Waited for you... talked with you... showed you parts of myself not a lot of people ever see. I actually TRIED to be honest with you, to give you what you were giving me, to be truthful. Would I have done that if I didn't care? Would I have even bothered for a minute, if you were nothing but a joke to me?

Yeah, parts of what we did, at the time that I wrote about them, weren't horribly serious and deep. Not to sound all valley-girl, but DUH. If I took everything seriously, I'd get hurt a hell of a lot more. Look at me right now, for example... I actually took you seriously. Tried to understand you, to explain myself, to show you who and what I was. I thought you were someone who might actually matter.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you were trying so damned hard to escape for a reason, maybe I should have just told you to fuck off when you wrote back after so damned long. Hell, did you even notice that I was GLAD you were back? Did you give it a moment's thought? Or is that just another one of those signs of a 'deep down serious problem' in your book, hm?

I... gods. I thought we had fun. I thought you might've actually enjoyed my company. My sense of humor. My tastes. I know I enjoyed yours. I thought that we'd shared something. I woke up today looking forward to talking with you.

And instead, I get the word that you're going to throw away your modem. Not even going to give me a chance to respond. Not going to give me anything. Not going to allow me a chance to talk. Where's the fairness in that, hm? You said you prided yourself on being fair, at one point, I said the same... but which of us is being unfair, hm? Me? I don't think so. I opened myself to you, answered your questions, and more. I showed you who I was, what I thought about, how I lived. I told you things I had thought I wasn't going to, thought I should keep hidden, that they were too personal.

Apparently I was right.

I feel like an idiot now. I keep forgetting that trusting people is a BAD idea, that it's a waste of time, a waste of effort. I keep forgetting that trusting men always gets me in trouble. I keep forgetting that Doms are assholes. I guess I thought maybe you were one of the rare good ones, the ones people talk about but I somehow meet once in a blue moon. Maybe you were and I'm the one who blew it somehow.

How?

What are you going to try this time, to forget me? What are you going to do this time, to get me out of your thoughts, out of your dreams? Did you even see me in them last night? Did you care?

I did. See you, that is... and care. Not that you'll believe this. Which is funny. You seem to believe all the bad things. You believe them whether they are true or not, whether they are even THERE or not... you seem to pull them out of thin air and believe they are solid truth, without even checking to see if maybe you misunderstood, if maybe what you see is NOT what there actually is.

Of course you wouldn't. Lord Domley-Dom, master of the universe, too good for anyone. Cocksure, full of yourself. You can have any woman you want, your attitude says. Any woman, so why settle for trash like me? Good point. And don't worry. You won't have to 'settle' for me. Ever. I've got just as much pride as you do.

If you talk to me again, I'll expect you on your knees, and I'll expect an apology. I know exactly how likely I am to get either one. And guess what? Give me enough time, and I won't care. I DO care, right now. I'm mad as hell, I'm frustrated, and I'm crying. Congratulations, you actually got me to cry. Doesn't happen often. But I hate to be called a liar, I hate to have someone I care for hurt and not be able to do anything about it... and I HATE IT when a friend disappears.

I wish I could say I hate you. I can't though.

Maybe someday I'll manage it.

For now, farewell.

- Jax -