The Sometimes Unfairness of an Otherwise Bountiful Life

There’s a man that I hate more than anything else in this world.

Most of the time, this blog is two things – half-assed and light. I rarely delve into the deep shit, but sometimes it’s worth wile to go a little crazy, just to keep the readers interested. Today is one of those days.

Over a year ago my heart was broken. And I’m not talking boo-hoo, woe is me namby-pamby bullshit, this was the proverbial knife in the stomach (and one in the back for good measure) balls-out, crying, screaming, raging, not eating, hole blown so big into me that it’s taken me over a year to deal with. And I still haven’t dealt with it all properly (clearly) and the “dealing with it” often took the worst forms of “dealing” you can imagine (I’m looking at you self-inflicted damage and alcoholism). I have never had to deal with so much anger before, and took every ounce of strength I had not to lose myself.

Imagine meeting someone who is everything you every wanted, faults and all. Turns you on mentally, physically, and you can talk to them like they’ve been your friend all your life. I guess for some people this happens every once in a while. For me it happened once. Once. So, understandably, I gave all of myself. And as hindsight is 50/50, I gave it all far, far too soon. Ten months after the outset it was over, him telling me that he needed to be on his own. That I understood. What I didn’t understand was him dating someone else less than a month later. He had left his girlfriend of 14 years for me, telling me that in all that time, I was the one and only one who ever made him think about straying. It made me feel so special, so prized. I felt remorse for breaking up his relationship, but I also felt that I was the catalyst that could finally break them apart after years of them staying together just because they didn’t want to be alone. I knew what I was doing was moralistically questionable, but I was following my heart – isn’t that what all that inspirational shit tells you to do? And I thought it was major-time love. Fucking epic love. And then his guilt destroyed him.

Or at least, that’s what I want to believe. Because how could he change his mind so quickly? How could he, in a feat worthy or locusts, move from his girlfriend of 14 years, right to me, and then right on to the next girl? Especially when “the next” girl was so similar to me. The thing is – how can I not think of her as me, but better? They are still together, over a year now, so all the people who told me that he broke up with me because he wasn’t in the mental state to be able to handle another relationship were mistaken. Somehow she got right everything that I got wrong. I know that self-indulgent, but how am I to think any other way? This douchebag gets love, affection and happiness after completely letting me down, and I get independence and a couple of scars from the razor blades.

Everyone tells me to get over it. Great. Yes, please. Please. I want to with every fiber of my being. And yet, the hurt and the bitterness are still there. Still stuck in my soul like a motherfucker. He’s the only man who’s ever made me feel they way I did. I hate that I don’t seem to be attracted to the vast majority of people out there. I'm just not. If I could change it, I would in a heartbeat.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for my life and the many, MANY amazing and wonderful aspects of it, it’s just this one rotten bit of shrapnel lodged deep within my psyche; the sometimes unfairness of an otherwise bountiful life. I just saw pictures of them and they look so happy. I hate their happiness. I hate what they have. I hate feeling that it should have been me. And I especially hate that I feel this way when I know damn well how blessed my life is. All this while they’ve been falling in love, and I’ve spent it wallowing in self-loathing. I have the wherewithal to understand that life isn’t fair, but at the same time I acknowledge the darkness in my heart, where all my selfishness, bitterness and anger lies.

Not to mention the hate. The deep, unrelenting, bottomless hate. But see, the biggest reason that I hate him is that I still miss him. And even thought I scream at myself – "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND? You are so better off" – I miss being with someone I felt so much for. Was is all an illusion? Shit, who knows. Do I REALLY hate him? No, not really.

But I do hope his hemorrhoids flare up at every possible opportunity.