Friday, August 15, 2008

On Judas Iscariot

The knife had been there for a long time before I really began to feel the pain. It was so sharp that originally I did not notice when it sunk into my back, until you started to twist. I’ve been stabbed in the back plenty and have returned the favor countless times. This time, however, it nearly killed me. This time, I really didn’t deserve it.

Twist it

Twist it

Does it hurt?

Of course it hurts. I found out the hard way, someone finally broke it to me. At least I don’t have to miss you now, I only hate you…you are hate to me.

You must think that I am stupid; I thought you knew me better than that. You must have thought I would never find out. You must have thought that the wool you pulled over my eyes was opaque…you were wrong. I could see right through it the whole time, I just didn’t realize what I was looking at until I pulled it off. You and him fucking...I should have known.

Look, I cheated a lot, I know that and I understand being left over it, I asked for it. But what the fuck, you cheated too, but not like this...not like this. This was a whole new level of betrayal.



It hurts badly now, doesn’t it?

The pain can be blocked out and bottled up, or it can be shouted about and let go (I blacked out while screaming at Girl on the Phone about it). The pain can be forgotten, but the knife you have slipped in snugly next to my spine…that will never leave me. The thing is that I thought it was just your hand on the handle of the knife, but I was wrong. He places his hand gently and lovingly over yours as you both grip the handle and your morbid rotation begins.



It is excruciating now, isn’t it?



My mind will now attempt to fight off the urge to shove my knife into your back, The Mass. You were such a good friend, I took you in when you had nowhere to live, remember that? The Mass, I can’t believe you did this to me…you took her hand and you helped her twist the knife. You’ve managed to create a large hole in my spine; the blood pours ever so beautifully out of my wound and drips onto the floor. The pattern is intricate and ornate; staining the carpet as the blood you have spilled flows from my soul. My pain, laid out for all to see. I am unable to hide from the everyday stares; I am unable to hide from concerned friends (why in fuck’s name would I talk to them after they kept this from me for THREE FUCKING MONTHS). I am only able to properly function when I divorce my mind from this issue…it is difficult; especially since I can hear him screaming from his cage in the back of my mind:

“Look at what you let them do. YOU LET THEM! LOOK AT IT…LOOK AT US! LET ME OUT! LET ME KILL THEM! Release me and let me wash the blood from our wounds.”

This time…this time, you cunt, I will not give into you. I will kill you a million times before I would ever kill them.

This offense is unforgivable, you have burned this bridge, The Mass…fuck, you nuked it. I can only say that you are lucky, my friend, luckier than you can possibly imagine. She is beautiful, witty, a bitch, funny and she was mine, but little did I know while I was stuffing myself into her cunt…you were doing the same thing. You are lucky to have her, I suppose in some sense I deserved this for treating her so poorly, I just didn’t think it was you. Like I said, you are luckier than you will ever know. Lucky that there is still a part of my heart that cares for her, because if I didn’t want to see her happy I would buy a bottle of bourbon and drink the fucking thing while I torture you Devil’s Rejects style.

The Mass, you betrayed me.

You are Judas to my Jesus.

Here I hang.

You betrayed me with a kiss.

So here I sit, I cannot lie down due to the placement of your knife, and I wonder…why? What did I do to deserve this? Why are you doing this to me? My lover and my close friend both laughing in my face, but this is how it always happens, isn’t it? It is always the closest friend who hangs you out to dry, I let you get too close…close enough to shove in the knife. Emerging from your Trojan horse to destroy me…and I opened the gate to let you in.

What are friends?
Friends are people that you think are your friends
But they really your enemies, with secret identities
And disguises, to hide they true colors
So just when you think you close enough to be brothers
They wanna come back and cut your throat when you ain't looking

Don’t think that all this is going to be bottled up and forgotten, you two should know me better than that. I put my first foot on the floor this morning and realized that; yes…I am standing on the ground. Sure my head is in the clouds, thanks to someone else, but my feet are right here below me, solidly on the ground. I will not trip this time, I will be more cautious. There is a promise of rebirth here in this tale of despair and betrayal, the promise of not being so careless. I will, henceforth, choose my friends ever so carefully because now I fucking know…one day they could be my enemies.

This is the last thing I’ll say to you, the last time either of you will hear my voice. You have betrayed me and may your sins never be forgiven, not now and not in eternity. May you both rot in your happiness. May you both cry your eyes out and think about death as the only option. May your relationship crumble painfully. May your children die at birth. May your fields be scattered with salt. May your names be forever forgotten. May your tears stain your cheeks. May your pain exceed anything you have ever imagined.

And when you both die, in some distant future…

…may you both die knowing that the betrayal you have committed will never be forgiven.

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