acts of violence are unacceptable in any shape or form. sometimes, though, people violate each other without meaning to, as in the case of emotional violence that comes down to simply not having the common denominator for concepts that need to be communicated, a common language, if you will. those i leave aside.
on the night from thursday to friday at around 1:40am i got a call from tulgaa who was obviously in hanzo judging from the background noise. he said something about a picture he was going to take, that he'd call me back. 10 minutes later, there was a knocking on my door. i wasn't expecting anyone, so a little scared i still went asked who it was. it was tulgaa. i opened the door, let him in. he was quite drunk. since i was working, i put aside my comp, tried asking him what was going on in his life, why he was there on a weekday night, whether he didn't have work the next morning, because i had. he said he didn't go to work last two days, what i cared about whether he went to work. having been a friend who was at some point in love with him, a friend who cared about him, his well-being, of course, i cared. he was simply walling off any and all questions, and started getting aggressive. i know better than to quarrel with drunk people, but when he said that he was there that night because he felt sorry for me, because everyone was laughing at me, because i apparently was writing about him. i got offended, said that i was not to be pitied, that i didn't need pity from him, that i was writing about someone else in the first place, that i wanted him to go because i didn't need his aggression, i didn't invite him in the first place, stood at the door waiting for him to leave. he said i was a bitch, a whore, a female. he rose to leave, took my cigarettes, crumbled them and stomped on the pack, shoved me, hurting my throat. i got angry, grabbed a chair, swung at him, he grabbed my dreads, pushed me to the ground, i grabbed his hair, he wouldn't let go of mine, i bit him in his thigh, let go of his hair, he swung me by my hair onto the ground, he kicked me in my stomach, kicked and punched me on my back, my head. i was in shock. all i wanted was for him to leave. after he had enough of kicking and punching me, he tried to console me, touching me, while all i did was shiver and cringe. he said he could kill me, that he wanted to kill me. i said i wanted him to go. he said he wanted to sort things out. i said there was nothing to sort out, what else did he want. he said he wanted peace. i said there was no peace to be found there. he said how come i couldn't create peace. i said i would have peace if i had what i wanted. he said what about the stuff i wrote. i said i wrote about someone else for the past five months, never about him. he said he wouldn't be in this state had it not been for me, and that he would hate me for the rest of his life. i said hate would be mutual. when he left, finally, after an hour of violence, i crawled into my bed with a bad headache, all of the next day, i had a terrible headache, concussion, obviously, and inability to concentrate on my work. yesterday, the headache was better, but still there. it is still aching even now.
i never want to see him again in my life. enough is enough is enough. i never want to be violated by people i considered close who take a dump on me literally, figuratively. enough is enough is enough is enough. what it all came down to was that he never got over the fact that i was no longer in love with him, that i would no longer give him anything and everything he wanted, including my limitless heart. now, there is nothing for him but a void. oh boy, his karma's fucked.