Hatred and Sympathy

I have always wondered why I never open up to my closest friends, but pour out my heart on this blog. I've always had the answer at the back of my mind, but I haven't been able to express it explicitly until now.

I need to tell the truth. We all do. We all need to tell the truth and be relieved. And be accepted.

That's why I write here and pretend like almost no one reads it, although I know exactly how many people read this blog every day. And sometimes I regret writing some things. Occasionally, I delete posts. I also lie about some posts when asked. "No, that wasn't about me, it was just an observation." "No, I wasn't writing about you, it was someone else." "No, it's not what you think, it's something else." I am such a coward.

I've hurt people with what I write in anger. I try not to write when I'm angry, but I'm afraid I'll do something worse if I don't. And I regret it. I'm sorry that I caused pain.

That doesn't apply to The Dumpers, though. Let me be clear, in case one of them reads this and takes that as an apology. I do not apologise to them. While I resent that I'm the one who caused them pain, I'm glad they feel it. 

Hahaha, what a lie. I am not a sadist. I have empathy. I feel their pain just as much as anyone else's. I took the pain they gave me and slammed it right back into them, but that didn't make my pain hurt any lesser. When I imagine them crying because of me, just like I cried because of them, I don't feel glad. I feel pain. Mine and theirs.

I have realised that just like I hurt them because of my pain, they hurt Nisa and Maryann and me  because of their pain. Even though we would never harm them, somehow it hurt them to be with us. They just wanted that to go away. I feel so deeply sorry for them.

I knew of their pain a long time before they took it out on me. Even before I knew about their "private" blogs or how they sobbed, hugging their dogs, I could see it. They probably didn't know I knew because I never brought it up. I'm not very vocal about such things. But I listen more than I speak, and I learn so much about people from watching them. I was closer to them than they thought.

I didn't just feel sorry for them then. I felt actual sadness and concern, and wanted to help them. I could have helped them. I would have gladly lightened their pain. I guess that's why it hurt so much when they pushed me away. I only wanted to be their friend and they rejected me.

Poor, pitiful souls. I've always felt sorry for people who have hurt me. But I tried to deny it because I thought that I must not have sympathy for them. I thought I must hate them. 

But I don't. I don't need to hate them. I don't need to hurt them.