Soapbox Diner
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As I am, May 23, 2007 |
05.23.07 |
Self-pity is such an ugly thing, and really, who wants to be a witness to that? I can tell you who: NO-EFFING-BODY.
So why am I here? I really, really don't know.
There have been moments lately where I feel such a profoundness of philosophy, like the world and all the thoughts the deep thinkers throughout the ages have ever thunk all of a sudden, they all make so much sense in the microcosm of my own little world. All the mistakes I have made in life have telescoped into such visions of clarity, it's like all of a sudden, I understand all the wisdom that heretofore has been a bunch of bullshit to me.
Do you know what happens when a person all of a sudden understands? Guilt happens, and grief. All of a sudden the weight of all the possible outcomes that your bad decisions altered and annihilated race before you and there you are, driving down a deserted road in the middle of the inky night. And you're alone and miserable, and full of the knowledge that had you made different, better decisions, you wouldn't be where you were today at all. (Of course, who's to say the place you'd be would be any better, but that's kind of beside the point, isn't it?) It's the possibilities that are important here, not necessarily the potential resultant outcomes other than the one you're living.
I remember aloneness, and loneliness. And the terribly bitter taste of betrayal. I had forgotten these emotions, but now I know them anew. Knowing you wanted one particular outcome, but it wasn't within your control. Knowing that life goes on not just for yourself, but for all the people whose lives you have been linked to, their lives go on as well. And maybe they "go on" better than you, when you are supposed to be the strong one.
Mr. T is living with his ex again. Do you know that for two years, he emphatically extolled his "done-ness" with her? He didn't love her, never had. Moved on with his life and had a better one without her. But now he's living with her. And he's out, he isn't locked up. He's hanging out with his friends and going places and living with a woman he swore to ME in the quiet of the nights we spent together in bed. He's laughing and enjoying himself in the absence of me. He's sleeping with HER. And his life is full.
I didn't want him to be miserable. I didn't want for him to be facing imprisonment. But dammit, I certainly wanted our separation to mean something in his life. I wanted him to grow up and realize that with me, he had it pretty damn good. But I guess he has it pretty damn good no matter where he is, regardless of the intimate moments we shared, bearing everything to each other.
And it all really boils down to the fact that it didn't, and in reality, it rarely does. So it isn't he who betrayed "us", it is my own imaginings that Hollywood images are reality that betrayed me. I betrayed me.
I guess that's where the self-pity comes in. The answer isn't with him or with the past, it's moving on in my own life and loving the blessings I live every day. And I guess I am just not ready to do that.
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