This should have been over long ago. Instead, one small thing set everything off again. Fine—let me explain.
Years ago I was badly hurt by something. My high school deskmate—we'll call him Landmine—pulled me into this circle. I still count joining as a lucky, happy thing. The unlucky part was meeting him. Everyone knows who he is; I won't name him.
Two days ago a friend in the circle reached out, hoping I'd let it go. I wanted to. Since the conflict formally began last year, I've tried to keep the lid on it. I don't want my issues affecting the whole circle. One of my rules is not to cause trouble for other people.
After that I avoided any group activity he attended—after all, the rest of you have known him longer. I used to be the one organizing things. Afterward I deliberately faded out, moved to the edge. It wasn't sulking. I know I'm not much of a talker, not good at it. He is very good with words and with people. I couldn't be bothered to argue.
I had finally managed to remove that bit of filth from my world. But then—this is my house. My home. Why am I the one who can avoid him, while he can't do the same for me? He came to my place without even saying hello. Whatever justification he thinks he has, that's not appropriate. So I made it clear: if he comes again, I'll throw him out. If he won't leave, I'll report him for trespassing. Maybe that sounds exaggerated. I won't promise I'll do exactly that. But my principle hasn't changed: this is my home. If I can't be happy in my own home, I will root out the problem.
Why come to me and ask me to let him off, to forgive him? Has he respected me all these years?
I want to ask: a man who points and comments on women's underwear on the street—what right does he have to call me creepy? And I don't think I am what he described.
For years, no matter how unhappy I was, no matter how I tried to communicate, he kept using my height as material for jokes. Is that respect? Did he grow a head just to add to his height? He calculates everything—does he think I'm blind? And after all that calculation, he calls me selfish. In good conscience, my principle is to avoid causing trouble for others. I don't know what mindset lets him say that about me.
Some people say I'm too serious. I'd say: he destroyed things I value most. Why shouldn't I be serious?
I don't need anyone to pick a side. People can judge for themselves. And this shouldn't even be a problem. He knows I've cut ties. Pushing in anyway—how is that my issue? Isn't it easy to solve? He doesn't come. Everyone else is welcome through my door.
Later, through friends' efforts, we reconciled. But honestly, we both changed. (Note dated January 16, 2020.)