“Michael…”

“you have the horrible ability to hurt people with your words. Your tongue is like a scalpel in the hands of a surgeon.”  My mother told me that when I was 16, right before the first time her and my father kicked me out.  We got into an argument and I don’t argue to resolve a problem, I argue to win.  I was ruthless in that argument and I made her cry.  It didn’t hurt, either… that was the day I learned the power that I have.

 

A few years later well after my mother and I had patched things up I was going through the first couple of days of separation with my ex-wife.  We argued, and I cut her to shreds and left her crying and hurt.  Then she did the same to me.  “Michael,” my mother started, “you both know how to cut so well you forget that you loved each other.”

 

It’s true, sometimes I know how to cut so well that I forget that there are bigger things out there than winning an argument.  I woke this morning to Julia calling me.  She was bawling and for only the second time in my life I felt bad for slicing someone up.  The first time I hurt a good friend of mine with words in a drunken tirade of an email.  That rebuttal was not a drunk tirade.  It was a cold calculating attempt to rip open someone that hurt me, and it worked.  You ever get what you wish for, only to realize you didn’t want what you asked?

 

Keeping in mind that she’s human too and we spent a great amount of time together.  I have to say some things to those that read that entry. 

 

J and I spent the better part of three years on and off.  We loved, we fought, we kissed, we argued.  It might not have been the healthiest relationship, but it’s what we had.  We broke up over the summer, but stayed close.  I continued to love her and when she came back for winter break I realized that I couldn’t JUST be a platonic friend.  I told her she had a choice, it was all or nothing.  She chose to come back to me.  She did cheat on me with her ex-boyfriend and lied to me about a hotel night with two guys when she got back down to San Fran.  She didn’t have enough experience to be able to sit down with me and tell me that her heart wasn’t in it.  Am I pissed that in the entry she wrote that she, in my opinion, played the martyr?  Yes.  Do I think that she gave our “rekindling” time an actual honest chance?  No.  Does she have a lot of problems?  Yes.  Is she in desperate need of a friend?  Yes.  Do I know if I can be that friend?  I’m not sure.  Am I hurt and bruised right now?  Yes.  Do I still care greatly about her?  Yes, very much so.

 

It’s sad that in a time when I think she probably needs the most help, it hurts her and I that I can’t be there for her.  I’m not a person that can share emotions well.  I can’t look at her as just a friend.  I have a lot of emotions and feelings about her, I, and us.  It puts a lot of strain on my heart.  I can never be truly honest with her because of my feelings.  I can never listen to her problems with her new sans-Mike life because I will just tell her to crawl into my arms and I will fix them.  She feels the need to go explore the world and because of that she can’t be with me.  I can’t blame her for that.  She will just have to explore without me.  Maybe it will make her a better person in the long run.  No one will know, that’s how the future is.  The best bet, though, for getting to the future happy is to follow your heart and that’s what she’s doing.

 

I will forever have a soft spot in my heart for her.  When she met me I was an arrogant asshole who was more interested in being a player than anything.  I will remember seeing her for the first time as long as I live.  I was sitting at Starbucks, outside reading the USA Today at about 11 o’clock in the evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes”>  She came walking up in a pair of khakis, USC sweatshirt, and knitted cap.  I invited her to sit beside me and we talked for hours, she came back to my apartment that night and we made out for three solid days.  It took almost 2 months before we had sex.  I bought her a necklace for Valentines Day that year and it has always warmed my heart that she still wears it.  She met me at a time of, what I consider to be, my greatest mental growth spurt.  Those first couple of months I was in jail off and on constantly.  Ended up in the drunk tank all the time.  She settled me, I saw a future for the first time.  I’ve watched her grow and blossom also.  We’re both young and we both have bright futures.  She’s going through a time period that just happens to coincide with me being done with mine.  I’m not as interested in drugs, partying, and all night benders.  She’s still enjoying them all.  She wants to explore, I want to cuddle.  She can’t be passionate because it scares her, I only want passion.

 

It’s evident that I still care a lot about her.  It’s odd, sometimes, how I show it.  My parents display no passion.  There is no fire and I look at it as a marriage deficient of what makes a relationship exciting to me.  I overcompensate looking for extra passion. 

 

It’s true I snuck my weekends experience with someone else to make her a little jealous.  Do I feel bad about that?  No.  She had a boyfriend lined up before I was even gone.  Was it a little overboard?  Yeah, probably.  I haven’t slept with that girl that I spent the weekend with.

 

Maybe one day I won’t cut like I can.  Today I feel like a real asshole for being a cold calculating asshole.  I’ve got some more growing to do also.  Maybe J and I aren’t as different as I thought a day or two ago.

Like Seacrest… Amador’s OUT!!!