2003-03-01 - 9:09 p.m.
“you’re an accident waiting to happen
you’re a piece of glass left dead on the beach…
the men who love you, you hate the most
they pass right through you like a ghost
they look for you, but your spirit is in the air
baby, you’re nowhere.”
it's a strange thing to realize that you've been loved, more than once, very well, much better than most people could ask for once in their lives. and to think of the ones i chose... tisk, tisk. oh, that there were a lesson to be learned in all of this! what strange, self-destructing principle is at work in my heart? i've disappointed some really exceptional fellows in my life. strangely, only a couple have really hated me for it.
it was, however, the minority that had the louder voice. but i think their words have been the iodine on the wounds they caused... the worst has been said and thought about me that can be thought and said ("there's nothing you can throw at me that i haven't already heard") perhaps i have them to thank for the hitting of bottom that every pomo knows is a necessary starting place. no more illusions.
there is also something to be said for having been loved very poorly a couple of times. it certainly does do something to a person (how's that for vagueness). i may as well say that i am bitter and no bounce-back in sight. almost to the point that i might say that it is a defining characteristic. bleh. and yet...
"it was like so. but it wasn't"
i talked to a. last night. it was rather anti-climatic, i must admit. i did not say any of the things i had rehersed in my head. i did not get to play the embodiment of righteous indignation that i had hoped i would... alas. i don't know what i expected of the whole thing. i suppose i simply wanted the confrontation to be real. not spewn into cyber-space and masked in conversation. i don't want to participate in the ridiculous charade of which the whole world is a part. "we are men of action. lies do not become us." if we are not fine, we are not fine. let us not mince words.
in the end though, he wins. i, the wounded, near-hysterical female bearing my dysfunctional and lonely soul. A., the aloof advice-giver, ("don't worry, little girl, you can change. get out more. talk to people.") maybe a. was right. somewhere along the line it did become a game. but not until he insisted... there may have been the normal undercurrents which any friendship between the sexes necessarily entails, if for no other reason than the juvenile suspicions of the general public. a. made it explicit, thinking that i needed to be taught a lesson. well, my friend, you certainly did.
intellectual, moral, romantic high ground... two out of three ain't bad. the question is, which of the three would hurt worse to lose?
frig. here i go again. rehearsing the speech i should have given. nevermind.
this is the end and i now officially step down from my soap box and do solemnly swear that from this day forward i will not mention it again. there are so many other hills left to die on.
