wah, poor me, and etc

I'm having a lot of trouble coming to terms with the loss of someone who called me his friend. He left this friendship with such ease though, that I know now he never was what he claimed to be.

Maybe then, the difficulty lies more in realising that everything we shared was based on his lies and my hope, and less in the ache of loss.

One explanation for his distance is his claim that I'm angry with him, but as our last communication was a Welcome Home e-mail I sent on his return from hospital, I don't understand how he can honestly come to this conclusion. I've heard nothing from him since, not a word, not even when, two weeks after that day, I shared the news of my pregnancy.

Earlier still, shortly after I began writing these pages, I gave him the address and asked him to visit. He came by once or twice, and never came back.

God, I feel so stupid now, as I should have known then that his lack of interest in my writing reflected a lack of interest in me. More than that, I should have known his lack of interest in my wonderful miracle reflected the same disinterest. I should have known because there had to have been many other signs that I was pursuing a friendship that lay only in my imagination.

I do feel anger now, because rather than admitting his boredom with me, he's blaming this rift on me. I think my anger lies less in fury though, and more in the pain of being reminded I'm disposable.