https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVjiKRfKpPl
Hozier is awesome!
I yeah, I be back, yo. Dogs are crunchin' beef bones. We did a big walk in the rain, yeah. I was the only one who DIDN'T poop, which is normal.
As an organic farmer, I seek the earth again and again.
Everyone else, go chill. This seasonal message is to/for AKA Beatrix. And no others.
I'll wait. Go surf 4chan or RedTube or something.
Ok, they're gone. Wait. My fans in Austria and Turkey, thanks, but go away for a bit.
NOTHING BELOW THIS IS REAL. IT NEVER WAS, ACCORDING TO SOME...
I drunkenly 'friend-requested' you (Beatrix, one mutual friend Joel M) a few months ago. And sent a message, not ever acknowledged.
You ignored me. (It's so easy, there's a button for it! YAY! A button for indifference to press!)
Yet again, in this memorable life, you have been a negative. Is that what there is to all of this? Subtraction? Ignorance, in its most basic meaning? Your curiosity has already betrayed you, and... you know me. So it's really weird you still want to indulge the fear.
Are you still so afraid? A simple 'friend request' and then you disappear from FB for months?
Are you still so afraid? That really IS the ONLY question. Fear? Seriously? After all these years?
It would seem so, that the default answer is "yes."
I guess I was such a horrible person that you can't ever acknowledge me again.
My responsibility. My curse to own, as a human who reacted to what you were doing. (To have ever known you, loved you, and been estranged and labelled as an enemy of you. After such highs between us, the lows were amazingly low. You made sure of that, by default. I own how I reacted to that. It made me sad and angry. I was sad I lost you and angry you made it so difficult to ever speak with you again.)
You're still afraid of me? Wow. I have to let that sink in. Or what, is there something else? Something actually real? Truly real and not 'unnecessary fear and paranoia?'
I never did anything, and you're still massively afraid?
It gets pathetic, fear, after a certain time. Sorry you still have it as a burden.
Get over it.
It's all my fault. I fell in love with an 18 yr old redhead. 19 was even worse, as far as I can fathom. Fairhaven had their hateful hooks into you, as one of their own, and I couldn't - or wouldn't - stay for that game.
Having six chicks wanna kick your ass for nothing tends to set one's expectations 'differently.' I heard their plans. They wanted to play 'violence.' You put them in front of me, to protect you, and weenie'd out of actually showing up... You intended and created that, as a young lady. The first rule of military planning is you don't discuss it in a bar, out loud. They did, I was 3 feet away at Le Chat Noir. They might have weighed 700-plus lbs, but, there are limits to what a stupid college chick knows versus a trained ex-military person. I was more worried about you being violent than you should have ever suspected me of being. I was trained to control it, to mete it out only when all resorts had failed and I was ordered to do it.
Man, I almost wish I'd done something to earn such a dreadful judgment from you. It'd seem 'just' then, but I didn't do a damn thing. I just looked for you. In a small town. How long before I saw you, or we ran into each other? Place just isn't that big. Coincidences in small places aren't that odd.
Did you seriously think I'd ever physically hurt you? If you did, then you NEVER knew me. (And then, everything we had was a bad romantic fantasy at that point. You were young, and I suppose me being 25 and a Army veteran was truly intimidating, then. Have you considered that you may have been mistaken? Maybe I wasn't ever - and will never be - a 'killer?' Someone who indulges their anger.)
Your fantasy fears framed what you thought in 1991, 1992, 1993, maybe beyond, I have no idea.
Are you still there, in the fear, did the 'crying wolf' make it unstoppable, by poor calculation ? The mixing of the label paint, which won't ever un-mix? You called me a stalker. I might have had the capabilities to truly fuck with you, but what did I do? Practically nothing. A few stickers and a few doodles? Nothing. I knew you were under duress. I knew it.
You fucked with me, in all ways that verb can be described. Bigger things did you, than I ever did.
-Then you pretended (to all) that you never did anything. Shit, you pretended we never were together. You erased almost a year of your life and expected me to go along with it, piecemeal? I couldn't pretend it never happened. You weren't very good at pretending, either.
Only you and I know how much you fucked with me, after. You more than I.
Did you repeat the stalker lie so much it became the only truth?
I hope not. I still have hope you'll be a 'normal person' someday and get over your BS assumptions, connected as they were to your old naivete.
And then, only then, when you become a true person, will you realize one crucial thing.
You will HAVE to call me. You will HAVE to. There will be no other way out of the ire/anger you created. It's been bundling you in knots no one sees. After you realize it, you won't be able to sleep until it's done, your dreams will vex you... You will have to do it. (Still fighting it, are we?)
You'll actually become a real person on that future day - not so far away - having confronted the one thing you said you would never do 'in this lifetime.' Being an impudent one is not very Sufi, yet you love your stubbornness. It is not a strength, as you will learn.
You can have gorgeous kids and be happily married and be in deep in your ironic career, but you will always drag this as encapsulated shit behind you, until you actually do something.
Are you brave enough? That's the only REAL question.
Can you take the sound of my voice for the 5-15 minutes it'll take?
I'd say no, or it'd have already happened.
I can't blame you, I can only own my reactions to you, and your indifference. You made it exceedingly hard to think you were an actual human being after we stopped being a couple. (You know why, fully.) You proudly embraced being 'mean.'
If you demonized me (which you did) what do you think I felt about you? A dragon calls out a dragon, who hasn't done any dragon-stuff? Pathetic.
It was your expectations (to your profound betrayal) that scared you. I guess I'm much scarier in your fantasy than I am in actual reality. Sorry I wasn't the demon you wanted, for all that attention you got at Fairhaven for being 'that poor girl with the evil ex-boyfriend.' Victimization works wonders for fitting in, in a place chalk-full of 'victims.'
I didn't ever want to be with you again, not because you're a bad lover, or companion, but because you sometimes act like a coward. You indulged your juvenile fears.
Then turned that weakness on me.
And then, used that fear as a weapon, against me.
Did I ever send uniformed cops to your door?
I could have. You initiated sex with me while I was asleep. By State Law, that is RAPE. Should I have mentioned that and de-railed your restraining order hearing?
I would have seen you marched out in hand-cuffs, but I didn't say it. The judge had already cautioned you twice about perjury. I didn't mention that when your Momo was in Leh, east of Lahore, she couldn't have possibly 'advised you to get a restraining order.' Another big lie. You know it was a lie.
I could have put you in jail on 22 May 1992, in front of all your friends, for nothing more than you having a poor memory. I didn't do it. I didn't even fight it.
Why?
Sleep on that.
Have you figured out why I didn't prosecute you for that rape? Or for your perjury? Or for harassment, from my point of view? (HINT: it isn't a hard equation.) Rhymes with "Glove."
I knew the cops in B'Ham after a while, working in a bar 5 nights a week...
They told me to 'run away' from you.
And you kept showing up. The blizzard in Feb 93 was the 'symbolic break' for me, but I assume not for you. You were there, and I know you KNEW I'd be there. Your friend was a waitress there, so, she knew my schedule, and therefore, you knew my schedule.
I eventually did leave. Summer, 1993.
I left because you didn't seem to be even remotely a real human person anymore. You were just a personification of anger and revenge and abject fear. A nemesis I didn't want or deserve. A victim of me, from your calling of the shots. Someone to torture with personalized graffiti. Someone to taunt and then hide from, as if you hadn't.
Clever. Your Momo never figured it out. She tried, though, to maintain her control.
What the fuck did I do? Please, tell me. I know you won't, can't and don't give any credence to what you may/may have not have done. I doubt you even remember your part in it all. I don't like to think that, but you're the most stubborn person in the world by my accords. I could get Obama or Putin or Merkel to write me, but you're more elusive than that.
You just won't do it. My new title for you is "The One Person I Can Never Reach." I could win a Pulitzer or a Nobel or
Love is bigger than Hate. Maybe someday you'll get that, and I'll hear from you.
926 4433. It isn't even long distance, Beatrix. Not that that matters anymore. We hear the same planes rising from Ault Field on Whidbey Island.
You'll have to call someday. Because 'not calling' is not very spiritually honest, or real, at this point.
Put it off as long as you can, but you'll call, eventually.
It's almost already happened.
I'll be here. I won't dial your number, unless I'm dying.
How 'bout them Seahawks?
