Andrew, 26/10/2019, 22:14:
"You are absolutely right. I am a coward. Most of my actions are done in cowardice, in a bottomless sea of unrelenting fear. And every single time, my actions result in the consequences I am trying so desperately to avoid. I just compound and double down. Certain that my experiences will fare me better. I am living an endless souls-like where I don't realize that my past experience is only good for avoiding doing that exact same mistake, but never learning why I failed in the first place in hopes of moving on. Ultimately that just leaves me pushing forward while countless others are left behind uncertain why. I'm sorry. I truly am. At the same time, there isn't anything that matters regarding how I feel. You are the one hurt, and that's not fair. You shouldn't be punished for being vulnerable, you shouldn't feel abandoned for always being available. You shouldn't feel those things because it is what I am afraid of. My actions are simply causing others to experience my fears while I do my best to avoid them. So for that I am sorry. That is not fair to you. That is not fair to any of you. Not that it should be of surprise but; I have no found anything 'better'. I'm just stopping myself from keeping this pointless cycle up, just sitting quietly alone in my room with shadow. Sometimes playing games, but mostly just doing what I can to avoid people as much as possible. I'm not sad or upset, I'm not happy or excited, I'm just doing what it takes to survive with as little impact to others as I possibly can. I will send a proper apology to ___ and ___, just as I am doing so to you, because you are right, you deserve an answer. Not saying anything doesn't absolve me from what I've done, it just means I suffer the consequences ignorantly. So once again; I'm sorry."
Andrew always knew how to talk to people. His patter was word perfect from the day of our first interaction to the moment of our last. It was mesmerising. In reading over his last message now, I realise it was not open-ended. It was not encouraging a conversation or a discussion on how we could mend our friendship, but a goodbye. He was done. Trying had become too much effort for him, and there was nothing left for him to give. Maybe he thought he was offering me closure, or perhaps saying goodbye was better than no response at all, (I had strongly expressed my distaste for being ignored to him multiple times).
At the time, I can confirm his message did not offer me any closure. At all. I responded with a lengthy message of my own, my childlike naivety kicking in. I didn't receive anything else. It took five days to get the above message after the last one I'd sent on the 21st. I actually wasn't expecting anything at all. It was a month or so since he'd spoken to me, verbally or otherwise, and I had sort of come to terms with the fact that we were done. I decided to unfollow him to spare my feelings, and then five days later he sent the goodbye.
In a toxic, probably very unhealthy way, writing about him here helps the hurt I feel when I think of him. When I'm talking about him, it feels like he's still with me. It feels like I haven't lost what we had. Like I wasn't abandoned by a person I loved so much and cared so dearly for. It would be hard to describe just how much I loved Andrew. He was, and is, like no other person I've ever met. He was harsh and pointed, and he always said what was on his mind no matter how scathing. And I liked that. I shouldn't have; he was nasty, and irritated by the smallest and most meaningless things. He would let something put him in a bad mood, and he'd allow that to ruin his day. But even when he was angry he would still talk. He'd tell me all the horrible details in his head. I can't count the hours we spent discussing the people he hated.
I apologise for consistently jumping between tenses. It's hard to always speak about somebody in the past tense when they're not dead. Yet it's equally as difficult to stay in the present tense when you no longer speak to a person. It's been less than a year and so much must have happened that I don't know about. I feel like I should know, but I don't have the opportunity of being on the inside anymore. It isn't my place to know, and I do realise that, but even now it's still so hard. I've never grieved for a friend like I have Andrew, and I'm still not done.
There is a part of me that will never let him go. There will always be a hole in my heart where Andrew fits perfectly. I know it's bad for me but if I could make the conscious decision for myself and carry it out, I wouldn't even be writing this post. He is simultaneously dead to me, and very much alive because I am unable to move past him. My life is different without him in it and my mental health has taken a significant dive. He is the only reason I cry anymore. As I said before, it's unhealthy. I know that. But keeping a part of him with me, immortalising him within these words like a character that never really existed in the first place, I suppose has some kind of therapeutic affect. Even if it is damaging in the long run. I never was very good at looking after myself.
Signed,
Elijah.
Meta Sentience.
05/07/2020
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