What I would have said...

...had I answered any of the 44 phone calls Edward has made since he blew up at me. In the past few days, it was down to only three or four a day, and I haven't heard from him in the past two days. I think he might have finally gotten the message. Of course, I definitely got his message. Speaking of, here are the latest texts:

Um...hi. ive been a complete wreck over what happened. so much i couldnt even work...so could we talk maybe?

please? im so fucking sorry you have no idea. please talk to me.

please please please please

please sasha. i feel like complete shit. could you please please talk to me. please sasha.

im so sorry. what i said to you was awful and inexcusable. i just...well i wanted you to want me like i wanted you. and hearing just me want what you wanted hurt... a lot. still thats no reason what so ever to have attacked you like i did. im so fucking sorry sasha. please forgive me. please please im so sorry.

could you even just tell me to fuck off. anything would be nice so i know your ok. please?

wow... you hate me that much now. ok i can take a fucking hint and leave you the hell alone. bye. (April 1)

HELL FUCKING LO!

..............

Of course, the "leaving me the hell alone" apparently included 20 or so more phone calls. That's the most active way of ignoring someone I've ever encountered. Somewhere around the longest text where he was apologizing, he left a voicemail. I was expecting a similar tone to the text - he realized what a jackass he's been and he's so sorry, won't I forgive him, blah blah blah. But no. Here's what I heard, instead.

"Could you seriously, like, fucking call me, or talk to me, or something? I would really fucking love to hear from you at all. So could you please for even one goddamn second stop ignoring me and actually goddamn pick up your fucking phone? I'm begging you. Please? Don't be more of a bitch than you have been in the past. I don't want to at least lose my fucking friendship with you. Please just fucking talk to me. Please? Goddammit!"

Did anyone else see an apology anywhere in there? Cause I sure as hell didn't. In fact, I saw more blaming me. Because I was being a bitch, like always, right? I brought this on myself, right? And when he left this message, I was actually getting close to breaking and answering one of his calls.

But, had I answered the phone, here's what I would have liked to say to him:

No. I don't forgive you. You said yourself what you did was inexcusable, which is exactly why you're not being excused for it. I could go off on some tirade about how no one but NO ONE talks to me that way, but I'll leave the tyrannical ranting and raving to you. I'm more a fan of thinking about what I'm going to say before I say it. Not always, but I think I've managed to learn my lesson, having burned enough bridges in the past. Apparently, you aren't there yet. So I hope you enjoy it on your island, with just the smoldering embers of the bridge that used to lead to me.

And even if I could get past the incredibly viscious, hateful things you said to me, the bigger problem is that I know exactly what they are leading to. I've seen it already, and you know that. Maybe that's why it was so shocking to see you turn out this way. You knew exactly what I've come from, better than most. And you must know who you sounded like when you said those things to me. And every time you tried to apologize, then when I didn't respond fast enough (or at all) you went back to screaming at me. I know exactly what would have happened had we been in the same room in that situation. Because I've been there before. I know what the bruises would have looked like, because I've had to hide them before. I know what your tone would have sounded like, because that sound has been burned into my memory, as all I could hear when I was cowering in a corner as objects flew at my body. And you know all that. You know that those situations have come about not only from people who called themselves family, but from people who told me they loved me. So how could you possibly be any different? You've told me loved me countless times. You've told me I was everything you could want, that I was perfect to you.

And do you remember what I told you when you said that? I told you that maybe you shouldn't put me on such a pedestal. And this is exactly why. Because as you're sitting there, screaming and crying and smoking and hating me, you forget that I didn't lie to you. I didn't lead you on. What you're so angry about, in fact, was the very fact that I was honest with you. And that in that honesty, I told you something you didn't want to hear. Something that didn't fit into the fantasy you've been clutching in your fist with an iron grip.

So even if I could forgive what you said - which maybe I could have, found some excuse or something - I can't forgive what made you say it. I can't forgive the hatred and anger in your voice, just like I can't forgive the fear it strikes in me. Just like I can't forgive the other people in my life who have treated me, used me like that, I can't forgive you. I can't forgive you now that you've become that. Because as soon as you said those things, as soon as you berated me, you lost any right you ever had to be anywhere close to my life. You don't deserve me. And, in fact, if that's how you treat the people you love, who have loved you back, then maybe you don't deserve anyone at all. Because I won't let you do that to me. I won't fall back into my old habits. I know where they would lead. And they lead so far away from the life I'm living and loving today that it's unfathomable. I will not let you take me back there.

So no. I don't forgive you. I can't. And I won't. You don't deserve it.