I said enough is enough, and that should be it. Enough is enough.

The idea with cutting off all contact is to make, for yourself, a clean break with the past. You don't want anything to do with whatever it is you're breaking off with. It's been crap, it's gotten stale, things have run their course. You hope to go back in a year's time with a fresh perspective and a new appreciation, or you don't want to go back at all.

Me? It is a clean break, after all. Either you say "so long" or you say "good riddance".

But this feels like freshman year all over again. That bust-up during recollection? When I declared to the whole block that, yes, I was being "plastic" - they thought I was being phony towards them, when I actually meant I was being phony towards myself? That's exactly how it feels.

When I clicked on "unfollow" two and a half months ago I said to myself that it will be an easy process. I can make a clean break. I can pull myself away from two years of expecting something from nothing, hopelessly expecting something from nothing, knowing that it's not been healthy (to borrow everybody's term) and if I wallow in it I'll just sink deeper.

Well, I was right about that.

But I was wrong about one other thing. It has been two and a half months. The three steps aren't quite there yet. Perhaps that is the problem? Not quite. I managed without all three before. I think I'm managing now. And yet I don't think I'm managing now. I think, more often than before, about whether my clean break has done its intended effect.

I was rereading old tweets earlier today. A former friend pointed out that I don't let anyone in. True, I don't. How do I expect to make meaningful connections if I don't let anyone on? How do you expect me to make meaningful connections if I'm wary of having my heart broken? I just had my heart broken, God damn it, can't you see that? I wanted to send that message across, however vague my methods may be.

A part of me is still hoping that somehow, somehow, those vague methods are doing their intended effect. Do you really know what exactly you've done? No, I'm not exaggerating, although I will admit I have a penchant for exaggerating. Maybe this is a nervous breakdown. Maybe this is paranoia. But I just had my heart broken. You did it. I'm not the most courageous person in the world. That took time for me to spill out. I spend a lot of my time writing and I cannot articulate these things. I'm still afraid of looking foolish so I try to be very discreet about it, and here I am, looking foolish, crossing my fingers, hoping that you thought about what you did, what you didn't know you did, at one point, and went, "oh, so that's why." And maybe, just maybe, tried to do something about it, and not just by suddenly popping up from out of nowhere with answers to questions I never even asked, because I'm too busy looking for answers to this set of questions;

But, more likely, you just shrugged and went on with your own business.

I didn't let you in? True, I probably never will. Until you figure out what you just did, I never will.

And your responses...

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