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One of my contacts let me know that you went through some soul-searching thing-a-ma-jiggle and that you finally apologized to a whole mess of people who you hurt because of your self-centered dick trip. I don't know whether the apology was directed towards me as well, but I am glad that after these years, you finally understand what hell you did wrong. I verified the rumor, and you seem sincere. I am proud of you and for this reason, I finally have it in me to forgive you. Unfortunately, I will not forget what you did, nor I will not ever let you forget it. Why? Because, I want you to understand that the damage of your actions was permanent. It's no different than the permanent damage that my former drug abuse caused. I care too much about you to be an enabler or to let you fall back into that pit of darkness that you liked swimming in. I only exploded in such hatred, because I was so closely attached to you at a time when the greatest love of my life abandoned me without meaning to. Attachment is such a double edged sword. You will never understand how much I loved you or how much I wanted you to succeed. You were my song. My heaven is loyal and binding. Your nirvana is perpetual stillness and detachment. I understand this. I hope you do as well.
The evil we spewed at each other, will forever float around on the Internet on some Archive site or on someone's hard drive. It's like radioactive waste. Just one drop and in turns a lot of saltwater in poison for a very long time. Even if I do decide to hide those blog entries from the world, I won't erase my history. I never want to forget my evils, even after I repent. I don't want to forget the myriads of joys either. I am not doing this as retribution. You just happened to be unlucky enough to be involved a really unfortunate but transformational chapter of my autobiography. I released the art we made as a act of brotherhood under the chaotic blessing Most Beautiful One into the public domain, with your unintentional blessing. Neither one of us can undo this either. It belongs to the world now. I won't edit my art either... not for you... not for anyone. I would rather it not be online at all, if I am banned from it without censure. But in the spirit of a double-edged sword, I have not been forced to remove those pieces, so I will not. I will still continue to create art about you regardless of your feelings on the subject.. For better or for worse, you are still a muse. It will be forever your blessing and your curse.
You can look at these actions as a negative things, or you can look them as tools of enlightenment in accordance to your Buddhist beliefs:
1. Right View- To understand wholesome deeds, unwholesome deeds and comprehend the law of Karma.
2. Right Intention- The intention of non-greed, non-hatred and non-delusion.
3. Right Speech- Abstaining from false speech, malicious speech, harsh speech and idle chatter.
4. Right Action- Abstaining from killing, stealing and sexual misconduct.
5. Right Livelihood- Abstaining from wrong and corrupt means of livelihood.
6. Right Effort- Awakening zeal for abandoning of unwholesome states and arising & sustaining of wholesome states.
7. Right Mindfulness- The four foundations of mindfulness (satipattana) namely contemplation on body, contemplation on feelings, contemplation on mind and contemplation on mind-objects.
8. Right Concentration- Abandoning of five hindrances namely lust, ill-will sloth-torpor, worry-agitation and doubt through jhanas.
- Taken from "Religious Tolerance"
Reflect upon these thoughts my former brother of the pens which are so much mightier than swords. Those are not my philosophical tenets, but they are supposed to be yours. Think about the beautiful lessons that you have learned and how much closer you are to being fine. I am a better person for being honest about my emotions, even if I had t be cruel. I did not rage the way I did because I did not care about you. I raged the way I did because I loved you like my were my own blood. When it all fell to pieces I feared that whatever good was in you was superficial and false. Prove me wrong my student. Prove me that you are good and that you can live up to your principles. Prove me that you can live up to the potential that you almost threw away because of your insecurity. I am not sure not help you anymore. I wouldn't do it on purpose if I could. I did all I could for you when you were family. You are disinherited from my family, but I am sure you have your own to worry . Your siren song broke my once mighty ship, and I will never be unable to trust your voice again. Thankfully, I have rebuilt my vessel. Not as mighty as she once was, but she still floats in the ocean of life. The ship survives the chaos storms and lulls me to sleep during the calm. She is a good ship, my life. You swim along and tend to your own as you have been doing.
You nearly destroyed my business, our friendship and me as a person, because you didn't have the decency to be honest with me from the start about anything. The nerve of you divulging the one secret I needed you to keep, over you desire to your assuage guilt over a sin that I would have never participated in had you been straight up with me still galls me. Yet, there is no use in letting the past destroy my future. I hope you look at it in a similar fashion. I'm not angry anymore. Like my tears, the rage is all spent.
I still will not communicate directly with you from a distance. This is for my sanity and yours. If you ever need to talk to me directly, do so in person, in a neutral location or write a letter. If you'd rather not, I still understand your symbols, your sigils and motifs -- but not much else. I'd rather you not because it will tear my heart and it might incite my rage, but I am letting you know that I am not shutting your out forever, if you can do something truly extraordinary. You were once something that went beyond best friend. I realize that it was an illusion, but perhaps, this might be an incorrect assumption on my part. It's up to you to decide.
Call me emo. Call me stupid. Call me obsessive. Call me a bitch. Call me an unfaithful wife. Call me conceited. Call me insignificant. Call me bisexual. Call me penis-phobic. Call me unable to get over the past. Call me immature. You can even call me Bloody Pencil, even though no one call me that anymore. Call me whatever insult or degradatiomn you want. I know myself well enough to discern perception from who I actually am. Just don't call me by my name until you have something to say that actually matters to me or makes any difference.
Remember kid, a blanket does not qualify as clothing, but it can keep you warm if you use it properly. I better go home now.
Blessing to you. You know who you are.
Bloody Pencil