"He's dead"
I told him how sorry I was for his loss, etc. And he said "I know he always loved you the most so I jus felt obligated to let you know ;( sorry to b the bearer" I don't know how to feel about that.
Eric wrote a private blog which he gave me access to. I forgot it existed many years ago, and about a year ago I came across the bookmark for it, and was shocked to find he'd continued writing all along. My name came up. Always positively. But his life was shit. He made it shit. He was doing a lot of drugs, wandering around the country. The blog doesn't exist anymore.
Who knows what happened to him, but in the end it doesn't matter. Dead is dead. Is it awful to say that I'm just glad to be emotionally separated from it at this point?
I am still at a loss for how I got involved with Eric. I had just moved back from FL to MA when he messaged me on FB around 2010. That's how we reconnected. Me and this kid I knew in junior high school. I remember him telling me after we dated that even in junior high he had a crush on me. "I didn't know what to do with girls" he had said, "So I just asked you if you wanted to ride bikes". After I started dating him, I wondered about that time in junior high school. What if he spent more time in my home? My healthy, functional, non-abusive home. Would he have turned out differently? It didn't matter, because that didn't happen, and he was very broken.
What followed was a little over a year of near-torture. I still cannot explain fully why I stayed with him, on and off, for that time. He could always talk me into coming back to him until somehow, hitting a year of dealing with his shit was what I needed to walk away for good. To see no change would happen. He was a damaged person. Very damaged. And he damaged me enough.
While he never laid a hand on me, I sometimes I wished he would because I thought that would be what would keep me away. But, he never did (and I didn't really want that). In fact, he didn't really even raise his voice to me that I recall. He was, however, manipulative like no one I've ever known. And emotionally abusive. Specifically when we were on breaks. He was constantly creating drama because that's what was normal for him. I didn't love this drama, but somehow, at that time, I coudln't disengage from it effectively either. His skills of manipulation were beyond my coping abilities.
He managed to ruin my birthday by sending some kind of nasty email to me on April 2nd of that year of on and off dating. He somehow ruined every holiday. He failed to show up for countless plans. He wrote abusive things in his blog knowing I'd read it. He often disappeared to binge drink for days at a time. When we split up, he wrote nasty things about me on FB. His jealousy was exhausting. I lived in a constant state of anxiety, walking on eggshells at all times.
I still have the scars. I am now finally, after about nine months, at a point where I don't feel panic if Mike is a few minutes late to meet me somewhere.
He is not Eric. Eric damaged me. Mike heals me.
For the year after it ended, Eric still tried to get to me in his little ways. He would change his phone number and call me using the new one. 'Leave voicemails about how he would "always find me" and that no one would love me like he did. I knew full-well he had no intention of "finding me". He wasn't actually confrontational, oddly. He ran away from things.
The last voicemail I got from him was a few years ago. He was nervous. I don't remember much about what he said, except "The sun is shining and it made me think of you, so I thought I'd call and say hello". He sounded on the verge of tears, he worried so much that I hated him. He didn't get it. I didn't hate him, he was just poison to me. I did not call him back. I knew, even years out, that he had a way - you crack that door a bit, and he'll kick it wide open.
He was smart, he was funny. We had our moments although, I'm sad to admit, I remember very few right now. He was so damaged. It's such a waste. After him, I stopped answering my phone unless I knew who was calling, just in case it was him. It's become habit. And I've only just realized as I type this that I don't need to do that anymore. Screen my calls. It will never be Eric again.
Who knows what happened to him, but in the end it doesn't matter. Dead is dead. Is it awful to say that I'm just glad to be emotionally separated from it at this point?
I am still at a loss for how I got involved with Eric. I had just moved back from FL to MA when he messaged me on FB around 2010. That's how we reconnected. Me and this kid I knew in junior high school. I remember him telling me after we dated that even in junior high he had a crush on me. "I didn't know what to do with girls" he had said, "So I just asked you if you wanted to ride bikes". After I started dating him, I wondered about that time in junior high school. What if he spent more time in my home? My healthy, functional, non-abusive home. Would he have turned out differently? It didn't matter, because that didn't happen, and he was very broken.
What followed was a little over a year of near-torture. I still cannot explain fully why I stayed with him, on and off, for that time. He could always talk me into coming back to him until somehow, hitting a year of dealing with his shit was what I needed to walk away for good. To see no change would happen. He was a damaged person. Very damaged. And he damaged me enough.
While he never laid a hand on me, I sometimes I wished he would because I thought that would be what would keep me away. But, he never did (and I didn't really want that). In fact, he didn't really even raise his voice to me that I recall. He was, however, manipulative like no one I've ever known. And emotionally abusive. Specifically when we were on breaks. He was constantly creating drama because that's what was normal for him. I didn't love this drama, but somehow, at that time, I coudln't disengage from it effectively either. His skills of manipulation were beyond my coping abilities.
He managed to ruin my birthday by sending some kind of nasty email to me on April 2nd of that year of on and off dating. He somehow ruined every holiday. He failed to show up for countless plans. He wrote abusive things in his blog knowing I'd read it. He often disappeared to binge drink for days at a time. When we split up, he wrote nasty things about me on FB. His jealousy was exhausting. I lived in a constant state of anxiety, walking on eggshells at all times.
I still have the scars. I am now finally, after about nine months, at a point where I don't feel panic if Mike is a few minutes late to meet me somewhere.
He is not Eric. Eric damaged me. Mike heals me.
For the year after it ended, Eric still tried to get to me in his little ways. He would change his phone number and call me using the new one. 'Leave voicemails about how he would "always find me" and that no one would love me like he did. I knew full-well he had no intention of "finding me". He wasn't actually confrontational, oddly. He ran away from things.
The last voicemail I got from him was a few years ago. He was nervous. I don't remember much about what he said, except "The sun is shining and it made me think of you, so I thought I'd call and say hello". He sounded on the verge of tears, he worried so much that I hated him. He didn't get it. I didn't hate him, he was just poison to me. I did not call him back. I knew, even years out, that he had a way - you crack that door a bit, and he'll kick it wide open.
He was smart, he was funny. We had our moments although, I'm sad to admit, I remember very few right now. He was so damaged. It's such a waste. After him, I stopped answering my phone unless I knew who was calling, just in case it was him. It's become habit. And I've only just realized as I type this that I don't need to do that anymore. Screen my calls. It will never be Eric again.
 |
| heading to the eighth grade dance |
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| Cartagena, 2010 |
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