In a way, to be indifferent to suffering is what makes the human being inhuman. Indifference, after all, is more dangerous than anger and hatred… Indifference is not a beginning, it is an end. And, therefore, indifference is always the friend of the enemy, for it benefits the aggressor — never his victim, whose pain is magnified when he or she feels forgotten. -Elie Wiesel
I can’t decide which feeling is worse… how much he hurt me, or how much you hurt me.
How did you hurt me exactly? By showing me that our friendship was much more important to me than it was to you. This knowledge did what it was supposed to, it shamed and humiliated me. You attacked me for not sharing my pain with you. So I did, and you ignored it. Then, you told me your choice was to be happy, and you tossed me in the trash like a used disposable razor with the warning that I needed to let go of all the negativity. I wish I could take back the times I tried making peace with you, that I apologized. I also wish I could erase from existence the email where I explained what he did to me – the one you’ve never acknowledged.
I wish you knew how many times I swallowed my pain and sadness and laughed, instead of telling you I was drowning. I know it won’t make any difference. After all, I’m the one who said we should erase each other. I also know it’s a talent of yours not to remember things after they happen. You have probably forgotten me, which is understandable. I wish there was anything I could say to fix what happened, but I don’t think there is. Whatever I bring up will only reconfirm how strong you are and how weak I am. I know exactly how pathetic I am. I bet you haven’t given me a thought in months. Honestly, I think Hashem wants me totally alone. I think that’s why no one will help me – help is for other people, but definitely not me.
I know there is supposed to be growth in challenge, but I wish Hashem would see the light… no matter how many times he throws this is at me, I don’t understand the lesson. I’m too stupid, too messed up to have a clue what it’s trying to teach. I pray for clarity that never comes. My head aches and feels foggy. I feel shaky and afraid. I can’t remember simple things at work. Yet for the last three decades, my nearly every waking moment has been consumed with the hope that someone will help me. Even though I know, as well as you, that I’m beyond help. What’s wrong with me is not on the list of problems one can share with others.
Will you ever know these things? Probably not, though it seems I’m destined to carry them the rest of my days. If I sent this to you, it would just make you angry, and hate me more than you already do. So, I won’t send it; and, soon I’ll get up to serve dinner. I’ll pretend that everything is fine. I won’t mention how much pain I’m in, because even if I did no one would hear me. Tonight, I’ll read the stories of people who were helped and touched by the Rebbe. I’ll cry as I read, wishing he could help me.