According to a recent book on Happiness I’m reading, I’m going to write down a letter. I will substitute his name. I think I’m over him. In fact, he’s become like an anecdote, a story.
Hello! You must be enjoying your time in the Zanzibar Desert by now. I’m writing to inform youof a bittersweet experience and to let you know that I know your tricks and how maybe, eh-hem, your people behave.
We met in a fast-food chain. We chatted about life, learning, new ideas, and psychology. It was great. We met again for coffee. I learned a lot; I thought about goals and dreams. The next day, I returned to work. Everyone I spoke to remarked how I glowed. I explained this aura by the amount of sleep I got. In retrospect, our engaging conversation caused this glow. In retrospect, I realized I started liking you.
We met again a couple more times. Each time, you tried to pay for drinks. Each time I refused. It was complicated, because I was helping you with your language skills. I was your tutor, so you tried to pay for the things. You confused me and you even brought me to a late movie. We talked. Our conversation progressively declined as I realized I started liking you. I asked my mom and requested friends to help me find people for you. Up til then, I never behaved this way. I acted bolder, and was more confident for you. We discussed passive aggressive-ness, and I realized I’m passive aggressive. I realized I get awkwardly quiet sometimes with people. For these lessons, I’m grateful.
However, upon learning that you contacted my friend’s friend’s friend (someone who I don’t even know) whether you could stay with them so aggressively and when you contacted my friend to see if they knew anyone, I recognized something went awry.
You are the person and you aren’t the person you say you are. Your initial characteristics, confidence and zeal for life, that initially attracted me also led to your down fall. Sure, you’re confident and charismatic but really, you’re just extreme, invasive, and selfish. You’re like the conference you tried to recommend me to attend. When I confronted you about your behavior, you expressed no remorse. In fact, you explained it in your characteristically you manner. “That’s how I am. I have to do it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to do the things that I’ve done. I knew that she would say no 95%, but I didn’t want to give up that 5% chance.”
That’s ok. I understand you now and I don’t want to know you anymore. At best, I pity you. You thought and everyone around you supported the idea that you were the sh*t in high school. You’re the youngest son of a family of 2 by 12 years or something like that. You grew up spoiled, even though polite to outsiders. Going to a liberal artsy school you probably felt you didn’t fit. Your confidence and self-esteem took a hit. You chose an easy major since you probably couldn’t handle the too difficult things. Maybe, maybe not. You’ve tried to prove yourself ever since doing all these fancy things. So, any opportunity you have, you try to grab it.
Good luck with everything and believe in yourself. (Your philosophy boils down into these sentences. After all, that’s what you’ve told me all along.) I have to admit though the amount of hurt you made me grow through really hammers my self-confidence into place, so I know you’ve helped me grow.
However, don’t expect me to help you anymore and I don’t want your help. I feel plenty used already. However, it’s funny how much I’ve learned about human nature and behaving from you. Therefore, thank you.