The man behind the curtain.

I wasn't supposed to know it existed, after all, he never spoke of it while we were together. He always wrote in his journal, sometimes telling me that I was the subject of conversation. I never meant to find it, but I did. I stumbled across his blog. His online journal. I was looking at the profile of a mutual friend, and saw that she (possibly they... I haven't found out if they're keeping it as a couple, or if one just has guest entry's) was following. It was called "Captain Oats" or something similar. Thinking it was a reference to the Captain Oats featured on the "OC," I pondered. Looking almost immediate to the side, after noticing the dull and boring back drop, I saw picture that sent shivers down my spine. There was no mistaking it, this was his blog.

After taking a few seconds to contemplate if I should read or just go back to facebook, I start looking for my name. I didn't do it on purpose, but something inside me kept searching. I soon found that there hadn't been too many posts. I find one, fourth from the top, submitted at the end of September. Thinking back to when We broke up, I find that this was while we were still together. Looking for a more recent post, I find what I'm looking for. I had just started reading when I realize it is what I don't want to be reading. It isn't a happy memory, nor a sexy one. It is the only memory I have with him that made/makes me cry. As I continue reading, I find that this premeditated thought had been rehearsed. I find that he was forced to pretend to be enjoying my company. I find that I don't like this anymore than I used to.

My heart begins to pound as I read. Each little memory of the night coming back to me. I correct him in my head, saying things like, "I didn't say that." "That didn't happen." The point was that the story is right on, it is just told slightly different. Each letter I read brings painful sighs back. My breathing gets louder and my arms begin to pulse. He was worried about what kind of cryer I am. Not the fact that I was about to have my heart broken, but whether or not he was going to get wet from tears or have to plug his ears as I sobbed.

I force myself to keep reading, all the while thinking, "I don't want to hear this." Despite everything I've led myself to think about our relationship, I draw back to the perspective that our relationship was just fun for him. Why am I hurting so bad when he just saw it as another silly old experience.

I feel like a fool for having cried in front of him. He didn't earn that right. I should have never showed my heart to him. And although I didn't exactly say that I loved him, something along those lines sure showed as I cried in his car.

When we were together, I made a bracelet. I used the rope that I found back stage, and I tied it to my wrist. I thought it was so cool, despite the fact that it was so simple compared to the other bracelets I make. Loving it, I made him one too. I gave it to him and he said he liked it. Reading his entry, he writes about how before leaving his car as a goodbye, I removed the bracelet and stuffed it in my pocket. At the time, that was a symbol that things were over. By putting that black rope in my jacket pocket, I was letting him know how much I cared about him. I was telling him that every time I looked at my wrist, I would think of him. And when I removed it, he finally understood that. As told, the thing that went through his head was no longer guilt (as it had been the feeling after seeing me cry) but instead justification. He writes that he had never put on the bracelet. Showing that it is just another testimonial that I am not/was not that important to him.

I thought that was what separated him from Nick. I thought that he was the guy who actually took notice of me, who appreciated me. That was one of the things I loved most.

I was wrong.