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What I can't seem to make my voice say

You just called me.
To pick the bones of the carcass that is our friendship.
To pick the bones of the carcass that is Tom.
Why is it so important to you to be right about your perceptions of Tom? Why is it so utterly imperative that you see him as a version of yourself? Why do you need, so suddenly, to focus on him and his death and his memory?
I'll tell you what I think.
And then I'll tell you what I feel.
I think that it's important for your perception about Tom to be right when you talk to me because you know how much he meant to me. And somehow, by being the one who's right, you think this will me make me value your insights. It will give me a reason to really need you around... for what you think you can give me about Tom that I didn't already know.
I think it's important for you to see him as a version of yourself because you need a defense and reason for your recent spate of bed hopping. If you see him as a slut, and you're a slut, then you can apply his better qualities to yourself and thereby dismiss the bed hopping as just a quirk that pales in comparison to your strong, wonderful friendship sides.
I think you need to focus on his death and your memory of him so much because you can't let yourself focus on the death of your sister. It's easier to be introspective about the more distant death, the one that effected you less, than it is to focus on the harsh immediacy of your sister's death. She was twelve. She had a hideously long battle with cancer and she still smiled more than she cried. She was strong and beautiful, she looked just like you, and you loved her more than you've ever loved anything in your life. And it's just easier for you to focus on Tom... pretend that that's what's *really* bothering you than it is to deal on this enormous hole that's been left in your life by her absence.

And now what I feel.
Your perceptions of Tom are woefully innacurate. he wasn't a bed hopping playa. He never lied, he never manipulated, and he never ever strung them along. He told every girl up front that he was in it for the sex, that there wasn't going to be anything else, that there was affection, he had to like them to diddle them, but there was no love and there wasn't any possibility that there would be. It was going to be fun and then it was going to be over and he would be happy to count them amoung his friends. He never coerced. He never bullshitted. It was against his personal code of ethics. The only chicks who were ever hurt were the ones who didn't heed the warnings and who naively thought they could change his mind. They did that to themselves.
TALK to any of the chicks he had flings with. ASK THEM how they were treated.. and don't just go to ones who are bitter because he didn't want them more than they wanted him. Talk to the ones who think of him fondly, glowingly. Talk to the ones who felt wonderful afterward and still do to this day when they think about him. He was INCREDIBLE to these women. He respected and genuinely liked every single one of them. He would never DREAM of lying to them.
The fact that you want to drag him down to your schemeing, bullshit, bed hopping, lying, coniving level pisses me off so much. You are doing his memory a massive disservice.
I honestly don't remember you and him being close. I am pretty sure that you thought the two of you were a HELL of a lot better friends than you actually were. Not hard to do with Tom because he treated everyone so damned well. You, just from our conversations about it, don't know the first fucking thing about how or why or who he was. And every time you open your rationalizing box of bullshit and spread on another layer you piss me off so much. And then you argue with me when I call you on it. You tell me *I* must be wrong because he was more open with you? BULLSHIT, TIM. UTTER FUCKING BULLSHIT.
I lived with him for a year and a half. I know things about him that Cheryl never got close to knowing. I knew more about him after a WEEK of knowing him than you seem to have ever gleaned. You know why? Because I didn't just take bits and pieces and extropolate like you did. I took the time to see the larger picture and to know him as he was. And I trusted him. And he trusted me. If he had actually been your friend.... don't you think you would have been invited over a lil more often? The only time I ever saw you in our home was at our massives when it was open door TO EVERYONE. You were just another of his fucking hangers on. That's all. JUST A FAN.
There was a reason that Robert asked me to be the one to decide what to do with Tom's ashes. Tom wrote letters to Robert and in everyone one of them, Tom talked about me. He told his father all about me and he talked about me glowingly. That's so hard to think about. That's SO HARD to admit. But Tom loved me a lot. He was like my best friend and brother and another part of me for so long and in so many ways and to have you run roughshod over my memories of him hurts more than you could ever imagine. And it isn't because you are right. It isn't because you hit a nerve of truth as you seemed to imply today. It's because you are so utterly WRONG about all of your 'deep' analyzations.
Leave the psyche delving to people who can think beyond their own sphere of need and want, you self centered shit.
You and Tom are nothing a like. Maybe you if you're lucky one day you can get close.
But I doubt it.
We're all the centers of our own universes. Just some of us never realize that we aren't the centers of everyone else's. You make me angry. You disgust me. Your need for avoidance.. this BLAZING NEED that you don't seem to see... it makes me sick and it makes me pity you.
That's the only reason I'm trying to help you anymore. PITY. It's got nothing to do with friendship because, ya know, you've never really been that.
You wanted to fuck me, and then you wanted whatever I could give you. You were happy I was around to help Mike because you knew someone should be doing it, but you just couldn't be bothered. Then you were happy I was done with Mike because you saw another chance to push your agenda. You were GLAD that something horrible happened between me and Sean because he's the only one in this group WHO NEVER FUCKED ME OVER. He's the only one that's actually done right by me. If he weren't so utterly heartbreakingly broken, I'd still be talking to him and I'd definitely be more comfortable in his strange and delusional presence than you the presence of your knowing, gleeful pack of manipulative lies. You know the fear that's in his eyes when he sees me? It's because he's so utterly upset that he hurt me. He KNOWS he hurt me and he KNOWS that there's nothing he can do about it and he KNOWS that he'll never be a friend again because I can't allow him to be. I want him to be... but I can't. Mike is a self centered cock... he always has been. Sean is broken and hurting and too much of a black hole to ever really be a part of anything .. but you.. you're the worst of the bunch because you're not as honest as either one of them. At least Mike had the balls to insult me to my face. But you ... You don't even respect me enough to be honest in your contempt.
You use words like "love" and "friendship" the same way other people use the words "convenience" and "opportunity."
And that right there is why I know that when I leave here, you'll be one more piece of weight off my shoulders.


A Non-Newtonian Fluid

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