Engineering Emotions

There’s a battle inside me. Light versus dark. I fight with all my might; I want control. I want to be who I want to be. But he couldn’t give half a shit about what I want. He doesn’t care about me, about who I want to be. He’s just here to burn things, and he refuses to leave.

I don’t even know where to start. I hate you but I don’t. I want to be your friend but I don’t. Clenched fists, nails digging into my flesh, unyielding anger. I’m being consumed, eaten away. I can’t hear my heartbeat anymore; it’s gone, lost in this burning rage. I don’t always hate you. I really don’t. In fact, most of the time I don’t; I’m usually perfectly O.K. yeah, O.K. just like a normal human being. I want to stay that way. I want to be myself again. I want to go back to being the boy who knows no hate, who cannot dislike, who loves to give. I don’t want to hate you anymore. I don’t want to clench my fists; I don’t want to hurt anymore. But it’s like I said, I’m not myself anymore.

Wow. Did I really just see that? So you have a new boyfriend. Good job, real nice. Especially after you said so many times you couldn’t handle commitment. It’s only been three weeks, and I’m here trying my hardest not to rebound. But off you go and do whatever the fuck pleases you like always. Like always, just like mother fucking always. I don’t think I’ve ever been more mad. I’m done, I’m finished. No more bullshit. You can do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care anymore.

So I guess I just “met” you. And I suppose we’re just aquaintances as of now. I mean okay, facebook says we’re “friends”, but I suppose that runs by facebook’s definition of friend (someone you’ve seen before). I’m not sure why; I can’t explain it, but I want to become your friend. Not just a “facebook” friend, a real friend. Someone you would refer to as “my friend”, you know… わたしのともだち！. So here we go. Let us charge forward and take our first steps. Let us etch into the earth a new friendship.

Hi. A simple beginning with no hint of the end. It’s been two weeks, two weeks of not talking, not hearing your voice, and not picturing you on the other side of the telephone. I talked to you today for the first time in two weeks. It was nice to hear your voice. I missed it. We’re friends now, just friends, and I’m okay with that. I’ve moved on. You asked me to, forced me to, and I did. I still care about you though. Even though we’re no longer together, and our future together has been erased off the outline of this essay topic of a life, I still care about you. And this isn’t just a “you’re a good friend, I care about you,” kind of care. I really care about you, more than how a simple friend would. You’re my ex after all, and we spent two years of our lives together, two happy years. I know life has been hard on you recently, I understand. I really do, but it seems that right now, you don’t want me here. Regardless, I’ll be here for you when you need me, just one phone call away.