A crack in a closed door

It's wierd when you think that one door of your life is closed forever and then when you least expect it, it opens a crack and then you have to close it again.

I sat in front of my laptop computer in shock last week. The first line said "wow." I thought to myself, you can say that again. After seven months of disappearing into the west and never calling me again, after finding about his finished walk only through the internet and discovering he had disconnected his phone, I got an email on myspace.com from the walker.

Holy shit.

He apologized for ending things (or rather, just disappearing and never telling me why). He said he was confused about his beliefs and life in general, and didn't know what to think about things anymore. He said he didn't know how it affected me. Part of me wanted to to scream at the screen and yell "You fucker!" and another part of me was kind of grateful. Not for the way he ended things but rather for what GOOD in my life has happened to me since he walked out of it. I would have been miserable had I ended up with him and not with Mr. Goatee. But still, he should have had more balls. He should have been more stable. He shouldn't have been such a screw up.

I quietly think rude curses against him for all of the sweet things he told me, for making me fall for him. I then write him back, and tell him that the worst part was not knowing what had happened, and that he should have ended things differently. But, I also told him that I hoped he found happiness and purpose in life. And that, while the end was hard for me, I'm a happier person now.

I tried to take the high road. I never heard back from him. But, I couldn't help but do a google blog search on his name. I came across a blog from a girl in his hometown. Apparently they were dating until he met me. Urgh.

I shouldn't have even opened his message, because, as I already knew, as squeeky crack in a closed door is never a good thing. The past is the past and it's better that it remains that way. Old skeletons are better left in the closet.