The final bomb in the war of words was delivered last night - after he visited this journal and read yesterday's entries:

From: "Matthew P******"
To: "shelbelle"
Sent: Saturday, October 27, 2001 5:46 PM

Done.

[Thank you. It's unfortunate that I had to turn into a psychotic, raving bitch to make it happen, but the nicer approach didn't seem to go over as well as I had hoped it would.]

I, of course, did not respond. Again, no point in doing so. Best to remain silent, given all the spewing I had already done in the journal. Any further words on my part would have merely been self-serving, and frankly, that's what this journal is for! =)

So how do I feel now? Given that I went into hibernation mode, and slept pretty much all of yesterday and last night in a stress-induced coma, I'm not quite certain how I feel.

Somewhat relieved? A little uncomfortable? A tad bit queasy (though that might just be a side effect from the Xanax)? A mixture of sadness and anger at the entire situation?

I don't really like it when things have to be ugly - especially when I'm the one who has to make them so. But you also can't taunt a wounded animal and expect her to just roll over and bare her stomach. At some point, she's going to snap back and attempt to tear off one of your limbs.

Maybe "ugly" is the only way I can effectively end a relationship (with the exception of my divorce - when kids are involved, you really shouldn't take the ugly route). Maybe that's when my need for drama kicks into high gear. Go out in a blaze of glory and all that. I just have to know that there's no turning back, no open doors, no loose ends.

That sucks, but you really can't part as "just friends" when one person still wants more than friendship, because that wanting will always get in the way. I was the one who wanted more, and as much as I didn't want to let go, I knew on a deeper level that I had to eliminate the thing that was keeping me connected to him.

I had to burn the bridge - burn it all the way to the ground so that I would know that there was no way to cross it again. This was finally and completely about what I needed - not what he needed. I had been walking on eggshells, trying to be careful not to do or say the wrong thing - but I finally realized I just had to crack the eggshells soundly beneath my feet.

The crunch was very satisfying.

I'm sure I've still got a long way to go to finally put this behind me. I'm a bit bothered that I had to push myself and him to anger in order to get to this place. It may not have been the most mature means of getting it done, but it seemed like the mature approach wasn't doing me any good.

Besides, I'm not sure that I was really behaving maturely so much as trying to maintain the relationship in the hopes it would recover. And that was the problem for me. I had to know in my heart that it was dead, or else I'd be stuck in this nerve-wracking limbo of confusion for God knows how long.

Do I like the fact that he's probably hating me at the moment (if he even is thinking about it at all)? No, I don't like it much. But I'm not torn up about it either. A few days ago, his opinion of me mattered a great deal. Right now, it doesn't matter at all - because if he really and truly knew who I was and what I was about, he wouldn't have dumped me in the first place.

(And I'm sorry, but I'm still not buying that crap about my "intelligent and insightful writing". This journal has been primarily filled with goddamn moaning about my pitiful lack of a life and inability to get over our break-up; I think he just enjoyed reading about how I was still hung up on him. And even if the writing unrelated to him was good, tough nuts - you don't deserve the privilege of reading it if you dump me. Harumph!!)

So I can't allow myself to lend credence to his possible opinion of me. And for the moment at least, I feel strangely free of the anxiety I've been feeling for the past five months.

I hope it lasts; I need it to last. And I think it will - as long as he stays away from this journal for good.