Please stop dying, please let me say goodbye

My ex-friend Doug is dying. He has been, in a faster fashion, since he returned from three months of treatment in Canada. (Treatment didn’t work.)

But as of May 31, things are much worse. A new tumor sighted in his stomach. And a bunch of other things I won’t go into.

I’m sad he is dying. Even for all the pain he inflicted, a part of me still misses the friendship, before I became a game to him.

(See, I’m a horrible person. I’m sad he’s dying because I know it’s going to mess with my mind.)

[I’m way less self focused now. I don’t think I would see him, given the opportunity.]

When he was a friend to me, and didn’t try to seduce me and manipulate me into having sex with him, he was a great person. He changed my life dramatically.

But that desire messed everything up. It ruined the friendship. And my saying “no” set him on a path of, “I’ll show you,” and “Payback is a b*tch.”

(To be fair, I said no to a sexual affair but I didn’t say no to his friendship, I was very fond of him.)

He’s still finding time to do things like have his groupie “like” my work Facebook page.

The majority of me wishes I had nipped every thing in the bud that night in Oct. when he called, because that’s was started the bad stuff.

He is so young to die. At 46, it seems like life is just getting into high gear, and then, “BAM!” you are dying.

But there is no goodbye to be had.

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