Monday, December 3, 2012


Sometimes you just have to be willing to write today off, to realize that nothing good is going to come of it, to keep your head down and your thoughts small until sundown, to go to sleep and hope tomorrow's not just more of the same.

Sometimes you have to acknowledge that you are a bad person, and that you are choosing to do the selfish thing because it is the only thing that makes each day not feel like you're breathing in poison. Seriously. I know that when someone is hurting they might lash out in anger at you. I know I should be the bigger person and forgive. But I don't want to forgive. I don't want to be there for her. I'm happier with her out of my life completely. It's terrible, but I feel like she's this cancerous tumor and I've cut her off and I'm able to live life again. She's not a cancerous tumor (that's the terrible person in me talking), she's a human being. And she's hurting. And I should be kind. But some people hurt and some people wallow. And her kind of hurting is the I-must-do-everything-in-my-power-to-drag-everyone-else-down-with-me kind. It's the if-I'm-going-to-feel-this-terrible-I-want-you-to-feel-doubly-so kind. It's the you-haven't-done-anything-to-contribute-to-this-problem-but-I'm-going-to-make-you-suffer-for-it-anyway kind. It's toxic. It's petty. It's poison. And I don't want it anywhere near me.

Sometimes you have to be willing to face hard truths, to realize that maybe what you're mourning here isn't so much the loss of a person but the loss of an innocence. There was a caring and compassionate person somewhere inside me once that has died. I don't care about her. I don't want her to suffer, don't get me wrong, but it's in this vague and generic way that you feel about strangers you hear about during some big disaster relief effort. I feel bad for the people without power or shelter because of Sandy. I would do what I could to help them. But I don't feel any personal bond with them. It's entirely the mild investment of of someone who doesn't have to stick around and see it through. I'll donate my money to the Red Cross and say my prayers for a week or so, then life will move on and my involvement will be over. I want my involvement to be over. I don't want to salvage this. I don't want to be invested. I don't actually care. Her cat is dying. That's sad. My pets have died before. But guess what? It doesn't have to destroy you to the degree that she's letting it. She's wallowing. She's doing the emo thing that I've done many a time before where you practically revel in the sadness. Not really; I mean, you're not necessarily getting joy from it, but despair is an emotional high just as much as joy, and sometimes it's just so very nice to feel. But it's immature and unhealthy and it pisses me off. I don't have the patience for it, for her. I know it seems like I'm turning my back on her, but what you've got to understand is that she turned her back on me a long time before this. Weeks definitely, but in subtle ways I suspect really it's been months. We've been slowly becoming two very different people. Just because we were close when we were little doesn't mean we have to be or even should be now.

Sometimes you can talk yourself into thinking there are good reasons for these choices you're making, but there usually aren't. They are very probably bad choices. You are very definitely doing something wrong. As much as we all want to paint ourselves as the heroes of our own stories, in this one you've got to be content to come out the villain. She's painted herself a victim, you're sick of her wolf-cries, and so you leave her to her despair and go on with life. It seems heartless and cold, but you do it anyway.

Sometimes life just breaks you in half. So you write today off, and hope for another chance.

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