Friday, July 11, 2008

Trouble No More

Trouble no more

So I guess y’all been wondering what the hell is up with Maria and myself. Truth is that I have been too. I asked a few close friends for advice on what I should do. I guess I need to provide a back story explaining what happened on Tuesday night before I go any further.

Abridged version:
I went to the computer lab. She closed it an hour early. We went to her place and got high. We fucked. It was earth shattering. She said something along the lines of, “When are you going to admit you don’t love M and that you want me?” I bugged out.

Stop the fucking presses people.

First of all, I love M, regardless of all the low down “doglike” things I do to her (in the words of Riff). Call me an asshole for being a cheater, I don’t care. I love her and that, my friends, I have to prove to no one. Second of all, what the fuck? I thought she was the player, not me.

Alright…I have been writing this in segments…I am back home now. Alone and I am drunk, again…like usual. Sorry, I guess I don’t know how else to write this. I am going to tell you the rest of this story over a glass of Maker’s. Or two. Maybe even three, we’ll see.

Ok context: I responded to Maria’s all day text message barrage with, “We need to talk.” Yes I know that was not the best choice of words, hindsight being 20/20 and all, and besides, she said, “When can we be together.” Shit, she told me to leave M; I think I have a little ground to maneuver here. What the hell else was I gonna say? Do you want me to lie? I’m done with that. Honestly, (funny word, huh) a very good friend pointed out to me that this is my chance to finally be honest in my real life. It had to be done, kill the lying Cheese. Time to die you miserable fuck….pathetic piece of shit. So anyways, I got some good advice this week from some good friends. They all came to the same consensus; tell her the truth. Well, the truth is what I told her. It didn’t go so well.

At least I was honest.

She slapped me again; I can see tears forming in her eyes. “You used me for sex,” she said. What the fuck was I supposed to say? That I want to leave my girlfriend and run away with her? She knew I didn’t want that…she fucking knew. I am not in the business of hurting feelings; it has happened to me one too many times, but this…what can I say? The actual conversation happened like seven hours ago, but I still don’t know what to say. I didn’t use her. I mean that. I thought we both wanted the same thing. I thought she wanted me to make her scream; to make her cum. I never meant for this to happen, no way, dude. Am I really breaking her heart?

You know what? Fuck it. I am going to say this in the most inhumane way possible and fuck it if you think I am awful for it. Fuck it, people, fuck it. In the words of the Allman Brothers:

“Baby ain’t no trouble for me…anymore.”

I don’t always want to be the nice guy. I honestly never meant to hurt her. Shit, if anything, I thought it would be me getting hurt. I mean, seriously, that would follow suit with the rest of my life. What the fuck can I say? Does she want me to lie? Does it make a difference to her that I am being honest? I am telling her the truth, something that has always frightened me so much. For fuck’s sake I was honest, for once in my life, honest.

Enough stupid questions, asshole. Enough complaining, asshole. Grow a pair.

Just drink that care away. Just like every other night. Drink that care away. Keep on drinking shithead, that makes it ALL better. Really y’all, at this point I don’t give a flying fuck. God damn it, I just lied to you. I care so much it hurts, but it shouldn’t break my heart to break someone else’s, right? Right?

Well then, why the fuck does it hurt?

This glass with the brown shimmering liquid makes me feel better. That is sad to say and it is even more cruel and harsh to look at in print. Believe me on that one, I have been staring at those words for the past five minutes. I couldn’t function if I couldn’t drink my problems away. Tonight is nothing new, just another scrape that will heal in the morning, right? Just another little scratch. I won’t even remember it in the morning, right? Right?

I am running out of things to say at this point. Fucking no one is awake; I am doing this on my own. For God’s sake, I just need someone to talk to. Someone to tell me I am not a horrible person for trying to do this the right way. Fuck, why does it feel so awful to be honest? Isn’t coming clean supposed to be like lifting a weight off your chest? This feels like the exact opposite. Why don’t I just lie, huh, tell me that?

To make matters worse, M keeps texting me wondering why the hell I won’t talk to her. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, at least not to someone that I have to lie to in order to keep up with my previous dishonesty. "Oh yeah, M, sorry I'm depressed because I just hurt one of the other girls I'm screwing on the side." That conversation would be stellar. I am on my own island here, ain’t I? I set my own fucking dominos up here and now I get to watch them fall. You guys are the only ones who I can talk to.

The rest of this….the rest of this is just fucked.

You know what? Fuck it. Fuck it all. To quote the Allmans again:

“Ain’t my cross to bear.”

I have too much guilt already, I don’t need anymore. Ain’t no trouble for me anymore, remember? Am I being selfish here? Will someone please give me their opinion with out slapping me or telling me I’m gonna burn in hell? Actually, slap some sense into me, please! Seriously, what the hell is going on here? I never meant for this to happen. I really didn’t…I swear.

Damn dude, what have I done? In any case, thank God for the Allman Brothers Band, Maker’s Mark bourbon and Camel cigarettes.

Screw this I'm going to bed.

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