Breathing. Breathing. Breathing.

The other day I wrote about That Guy, how I can't block his email address without an existing email, but I'd deleted all his emails, emptied the trash, and sent in a sweeper in case there were any stragglers.

So obviously today I get an email from him saying he'd been going through some books and found two I'd loaned him a million years ago, wanting to make arrangements to return them. (By mail or go-between. Not by seeing me in person. Don't be absurd -- you save "in person" for people you give a fuck about, right?)

So he either saw the post, because he follows this page on Tumblr, or he just happened to have emailed me. I really don't know which.

Also, if he saw it, part of the post was: "There was comfort in the idea of closure, because there'd be no more worrying about letting my guard down when checking email — let’s be honest, stupidly half-hoping I’d ever be worth more than a drunk-texted apology at 3 a.m."

So...if we're going to assume he's seen it, the underlying message of that email is that I'm NOT worth more than that.

So I guess it's a good thing I'm heading to therapy in a half hour, yeah? 

Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. I am, like, 150 times stronger than this.