Dear Carrie,
I am sorry. I'm trying to speak from the heart, which is hard, because I usually disassociate this pathetic part of myself from the rest of me.
Taking responsibility for this part of myself makes me feel sick with guilt and shame and dissapointment. I can taste bile as I write this.
If you take anything from this message, take this: It genuinely had nothing to do with you as a human being. I barely even noticed you *were* a human being. It didn't matter to me because all you were was an easy way of feeling better about myself by tearing you down/watching you be teared down.
I'm writing this so that you know that it matters to me, now, that I participated in what was fundamentally bullying you. I know I've only posted twice but I've been reading since the Summer of 2014. Reading with sick satisfaction posts of other people saying cruel, obviously untrue things about you. While I was reading and posting here, I felt a dull ache of guilt that never really touched me at my core because I didn't take responsibility for what I was doing. Now I do, I'm repulsed, the guilt is like physical pain. Like I said, I taste bile. My body is disgusted with me and I deserve it. I now know damn-well what a shitty thing I was doing and I want you to know that I know that and I'm sorry.
If you want some valid first-hand explanation of why people post and read here, I'll try and explain. This is why I did it:
Years of slowly disconnecting myself from humanity. My life's crap. You're right: I do need a bearhug, but I don't really have the resources. And there were healthier, braver ways of dealing with that but what I did was split myself up so if one "part" of me got hurt, the other "parts" could still function. You know how Voldemort split his soul up so he was immortal but never really human? I split myself up so that I couldn't get hurt but in so doing voluntarily disconnected myself from the humanity of others. I didn't take responsibility for my own life or how I affected other people. It was too hard and so I ended up with a spine of rubber, a heart full of hate and an inability to see that what I was doing was affecting others. I'm sure there was other stuff going on too. I'll try to pluck up the courage to go to therapy.
I'm going to sign this in my own name and that makes me feel light-headed and panicky with the fear of taking responsibility of something so fucking repulsive.
I reduced you to nothing because I was bored and sad and angry.
What a shithead.
Sorry,
Estelle.
P.S. Because you believe in the power of good, know that I'm redirecting the energy used on you in that general direction.
I am sorry. I'm trying to speak from the heart, which is hard, because I usually disassociate this pathetic part of myself from the rest of me.
Taking responsibility for this part of myself makes me feel sick with guilt and shame and dissapointment. I can taste bile as I write this.
If you take anything from this message, take this: It genuinely had nothing to do with you as a human being. I barely even noticed you *were* a human being. It didn't matter to me because all you were was an easy way of feeling better about myself by tearing you down/watching you be teared down.
I'm writing this so that you know that it matters to me, now, that I participated in what was fundamentally bullying you. I know I've only posted twice but I've been reading since the Summer of 2014. Reading with sick satisfaction posts of other people saying cruel, obviously untrue things about you. While I was reading and posting here, I felt a dull ache of guilt that never really touched me at my core because I didn't take responsibility for what I was doing. Now I do, I'm repulsed, the guilt is like physical pain. Like I said, I taste bile. My body is disgusted with me and I deserve it. I now know damn-well what a shitty thing I was doing and I want you to know that I know that and I'm sorry.
If you want some valid first-hand explanation of why people post and read here, I'll try and explain. This is why I did it:
Years of slowly disconnecting myself from humanity. My life's crap. You're right: I do need a bearhug, but I don't really have the resources. And there were healthier, braver ways of dealing with that but what I did was split myself up so if one "part" of me got hurt, the other "parts" could still function. You know how Voldemort split his soul up so he was immortal but never really human? I split myself up so that I couldn't get hurt but in so doing voluntarily disconnected myself from the humanity of others. I didn't take responsibility for my own life or how I affected other people. It was too hard and so I ended up with a spine of rubber, a heart full of hate and an inability to see that what I was doing was affecting others. I'm sure there was other stuff going on too. I'll try to pluck up the courage to go to therapy.
I'm going to sign this in my own name and that makes me feel light-headed and panicky with the fear of taking responsibility of something so fucking repulsive.
I reduced you to nothing because I was bored and sad and angry.
What a shithead.
Sorry,
Estelle.
P.S. Because you believe in the power of good, know that I'm redirecting the energy used on you in that general direction.