First, Do No Harm, cont. - by Poi
Subj: Bobby And His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
Date: 4/28/99 21:14:04 EST
From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Robert Drake)
To: email@example.com (Henry McCoy)
> You have nothing to apologise for. <
Oh no, of-course I don't. I can do no wrong, can I. I'm
Saint Robert the Perfect, Bobby the soon to be Matyred.
I'm not dead yet Hank, could we please postpone the
Christ, I wish people would stop making exceptions for my
and my attitude because of the thing-which-is-not-to-be-
mentioned. I was an asshole. Be pissed at me. You can do
it, I know you can. God damn it, you're still _allowed_.
Right... so, should I change the subject and pretend I
didn't notice the way you completely avoided responding
to the rest of the letter?
So okay. Okay. To quote someone or other, your
stubbornness has ceased to be a virtue. I'd let it go if
I had the time to wait for you to come around, but I
don't. So I won't, I can't. I don't want to shuffle off
knowing you're going to be killing yourself with guilt -
not to mention overwork, 10 bucks says you aren't
sleeping more than 2 hours in every 24... but anyway...
So will you just tell me, what the hell are you afraid
will happen if you see me?
Because nothing's gonna happen. I don't hate you. I don't
want to hurt you. The world almost certainly won't end,
though I guess you can never be too sure with us.
Although, actually, and here's an atypically insightful
psychological comment from me (stop staring, you aren't
the only one with access to a dictionary) I think you'd
probably feel better if I _did_ want to hurt you,
wouldn't you? Penance, right? Redemption through
suffering and all that shit (hey, I went to Sunday
School). Geez, Blue, and you not even a catholic...
So - what then, are you scared if you actually _see_ me,
you'll be able to tell that I really _don't_ hate you,
and neither does anyone else? And then you'll have to
<gasp> <shock> <horror> _forgive_ yourself? (and
someone please tell me when the hell _I_ became the adult
in this relationship?)
Hank, Hank, Hank, what am I supposed to do with you?
You're my best friend. You're my family. I love you. I
don't want you to blame yourself, and I don`t want you to
hurt. Is any of this getting through to you? Am I going
to have to get sappy?
Because I may start holding a grudge after all if you
force me to get sappy.
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