Sometimes we do things that don’t make much sense. Sometimes we may stray from the path and discover new ways to live, and sometimes we will not. But we must always remember this. The ends justify the means.
“He never meant it, not a single thing,” she told me as if she had the slightest idea of what was going on—which she didn’t. “Not a word.”
“I thought he was different. I thought that he could have fixed me, he could have helped me.” I agree, because I have nothing else to say. I agree because I do not disagree. He didn’t. Why can’t I remind myself of that? Why can’t I seem to pull my minds (I seem to have six recently) together, and focus? What will make me happy and how will I continue to live?
“He never meant a single thing,” she mutters again, almost as if she, herself, is taking something in.
Not like it was my relationship that had just ended after nine years. Gone. Wasted. Half of the years was this nasty self-torture we all get addicted to at some point in our lives.
The things they never tell you in school is that it is perfectly natural to want to break things. Gossip, lies, deceit, they run rampant around, digging their trenches between friends and lovers and the ideal way of life.
I’m sickened I fell into that trap, but I’m here and I’m better now.
She looked over and me and saw my tears. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I mean… You just have to see—this is a good thing!”
I’ll never forgive her for saying that. Me and him? That relationship? That was a once-in -a-lifetime kind of thing. It wasn’t happening again. Ever.
Still, “Yeah! Of course. This is a good thing.” I continue, telling her of how great my life will be now and how I’ll do the things I’d say I’d always do.
A few days later, and I’m stuck waking, wondering what he’s up to. Where he’s been, and who he’s seen. You develop that kind of grasp on someone, and it’s difficult to let go. I hate myself for being anxious, and my story is just beginning.
Somewhere, there are people for me to see.
Somewhere, there are some other places I need to be.
Until then I’ll face the consequences I made for myself, when I rescued myself. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire.