It isn’t right in my face every moment of every day
anymore. At first it was every
commercial, every song, every show, every time I turned on the TV and heard
that god damn chime that played on the one we had and so on; I couldn’t
forget. It was always lurking just below
the surface, I thought I was covering it up but I could see it in the faces of
my friends that I was not doing a good job.
I guess after a while I got good at faking it, but it was always there
in the front of my mind, coloring my view of the world. It took a few months, but after a while they
stopped asking. I guess they just figure
everything is back to “normal” at this point, whatever the fuck that means.
Right now I don’t have to try to push those memories out of
my mind, when I’m occupied they stay out of my way. When I find myself alone and my head clear,
that’s when it happens. As I lay my head
on that pillow and wait for the Benadryl to kick in, a thought will often cross
my mind and then it is too late. I don’t
know what triggers it, but as soon as I’m asleep it’s all over.
I can’t ever actually remember the dreams, just the feeling
they leave me with when I wake. I will
roll over and reach for her only to find the side of the bed that she slept on
cold. It is usually then that I close my
eyes and feel a tear roll off my face and into my ear. After a few minutes I’ll fall back asleep and
it starts all over again. I usually just
wake up with a pain in my chest and a vague memory of pleading with her to no
avail, in my dreams she is so very heartless.
Look, I don’t even know why the hell I’m writing this. I still love her and it hurts so fucking
much, why can’t I move on? I don’t want
to feel for her anymore, I don’t want to see her when I sleep; I’m so
tired. I don’t have anyone to talk to
about it: my friends have heard enough, parents don’t get it and the therapist
is about as helpful as a third nut.
I suppose that first paragraph isn’t completely accurate,
you see what prompted me to write this is the fact that she seems to be on my
mind an awful lot over the past few days.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that two years ago at this
very moment I was the happiest I had been in my entire life, I had just arrived
in New York. All the hard work had
finally paid off; she was mine at long last.
It sure didn’t take me long to fuck that up, did it?
Here we are now, two years later, and everything is
completely the opposite. All that work
we put in is all gone now, I’m just another on the list of assholes who have
hurt her in her life. Maybe I’m the
worst, who knows? I know I’ll never get
a phone call or an email from her saying that she forgives me, let alone that
she is sorry for how she did it. I’m
just a speck in the rearview mirror now, an immature child who never was quite
good enough for her. I wonder now if I
am good enough for anyone, I know people tell me I am, but I don’t feel the
same. I’ve never been hurt like this
before and after nearly six months I still haven’t the slightest clue as to how
to “heal” as she put it. I don’t really
even know who I am anymore; she gave me definition for so long. Maybe that should have been the clue as to
how much of a loser I really am.
She was my support, my rock and my love; I guess I was just
never the same for her. It makes me feel
less than human. It makes me feel like
giving up. It makes me feel like a
failure that wasted both our time. I
don’t see a purpose in my life anymore, and I have not for a long time now. I don’t see the point anymore. It’s like that first Saturday night we ever
shared was a microcosm of our entire time together. Wonderful at first, I fuck up, she walks away
and I try to chase her. Except this time
she doesn’t take me back in, this time she never thinks of me again. Just a speck in the rearview mirror, someone
who couldn’t handle it, who blamed New York for all his problems…weak, insecure
and dishonest. Never worth her time
anyway, or anyone else’s for that matter.
How’s that for self-pity?
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