Another Heartbreak

It’s been long enough that I have my thoughts in order.  A personal post.  You can skip it, if this sort of stuff isn’t your schtick.  I don’t blame you.  This isn’t what I am a fan of either.  But I felt like writing this, because I honestly feel like I am losing some part of me that is really important.  Each day, another part fades away, and I can’t get it back.  I don’t know what to do.  Do I yell?  Do I lash out?  Why can’t I feel anything?  But the question that has been keeping me up at night lately – what’s wrong with me?

All my life, I am have been used by people.  My better nature compels me to be a person who does right and never tries to hurt anyone.  I feel like that’s a good way to be.  The Golden Rule and all that shit.  Do unto others that which you would have done unto you.  But that’s not the world we live in.  There’s no such thing as karma.  There’s no such thing as reward for goodness.  In fact, the world we live in punishes good people for their kindness.  Because it’s too easy to be evil.  Life rewards underhandedness.  It rewards cruelty, because people look for the cruel.  The cruel get things done.  The cruel do whatever it takes, and consequences be damned.  Actually, that’s not entirely true.  The cruel understand the consequences.  They are very careful.  Every move is calculated.  Each action has a purpose.  That’s the true merit of the cruel.  Hence why they go far in this world.  Every part of me wishes that I could be that way.  Because then I wouldn’t be used the way I am.

That’s how it’s always been.  I get used, thrown away, then used again.  Part of that is on me.  I allow it to happen.  I don’t have to, but I do.  That’s a personal flaw.  One that I will have to work to correct.  Not easy, but I figure that it must be possible.  Should I ever grow the willpower.  People use me, and when they no longer can get anything from me, when I no longer serve a function, they case me out.  To quote the Joker, “like a leper.”  Lost so damn many friendships along the way.  But you know, that isn’t what bugs me.  Not at all.  What bugs me is the relationships I’ve lost.  Like just recently.

I got dumped.  Again.  Dumped by someone who didn’t even give me a chance.  I got a Dear John text.  That’s right, a fucking text.  Little bitch didn’t even have the balls to say it to my face.  Didn’t have the guts to come to me and tell me that she doesn’t want to be with me.  She had to go and do it at work, and I was stuck spending the next several hours trying not to cry.  Trying not to let my emotions show.  That’s how she did me.  Why?  Because I have depression, and she doesn’t want to date someone with that.  Yeah, because it’s not like we worked last time!  We were good!  We were better than good!  But just like last time, she had a problem and then chose to not talk to me about it.  The fundamental bedrock of a relationship, and I guess that it was totally lost on her.  So, I get a text, at work, telling me that I am being let go.  However, it didn’t end there.

See, she chose to excise herself from my entire life.  In every conceivable way.  You’d think that would have made it easier.  I wanted to be mad.  I wanted to be upset.  I wanted to feel something.  Anything!  I feel nothing!  Ever!  My whole being is numb.  I feign emotion.  I feign feeling things.  But the truth is that everything is just numb.  That’s the thing that is keeping me up at night.

I feel like my soul is slowly dying.  Like I am decaying from the inside out.  Everything is just rotting.  The process will take many years.  But each day, I wake up with a little less of who I am inside.  My old life died in a hospital bed, and my new life is slowly dying with each dawn that I wake up.  Imagine that you are in bed, but when you wake up, some part of you is left behind.  And that part just shrivels up and then blows away in the breeze.  So when you get back to bed the next night, it’s gone.  That’s what I feel like.  How many dawns before I’m not leaving something behind?  Where does it end?  Way I figure it, it ends when I die, but I could have a LONG time before that.  But when I get there, I will be so rotted and so hollow that the very act of showing emotion will be too much effort.

So I guess that this is a self-fulfilling prophecy, isn’t it?  She doesn’t want to be with me because she doesn’t want me to end up like her dad, miserable and alone.  Now, here I am, miserable as fuck and alone.  I swear, the little cretin has a gift.  As I stare into the glitter lamp that now fills my apartment with gentle light, all I can think of is – I am such a fool.  I kept wanting to believe.  Wanting to believe that if I tried hard enough, put enough effort in, that things could work out for me.  But it’s not true.  Instead, here I am, 26 years in on this waste of time that is my life, and I’m not wiser, better off, or fulfilled than when I started.

My inner romantic is dead.  After years of trying to bury it or ignore it, it has finally died.  I gave it so many chances, but it kept throwing me in the dumpster.  Now I threw it out.  I feel no more desire for romance, of any kind.  The story is done, and you know what, I’m glad.  Now all I have to do is play out the rest of my story and then go see who is the right.  If it is the Christians, and I go to get judged, then I have a beating to give God.  The kind that he isn’t getting up from.  If he exists, he can die.  Might as well be me who does it.  None of it matters.  In the end, I will just fade away.

No one will miss me.  Not one person.

Until next time, a quote,

“We are selfish, base animals, crawling across the Earth. Because we have brains, we try real hard, and occasionally aspire to something that’s less than pure evil.” -Gregory House, House M.D.

Peace out,



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