Forgiveness

He said sorry. But I don't know...it's not like when it happens once it won't happen again. I know too much about humans to be fooled like that. The mechanisms that are there initially will always be there. And it's not my job to change someone else. Everyone is capable of doing that for themselves. I should know.

So what of forgivenesss? Do I say it's fine? Does me forgiving it mean I'm saying it's okay? Because it's not. Like right now, I am quite aware of my anger surrounding this, but I am remaining even at all costs. I HAVE to. For me. Because it's not worth giving into rage to sublimate someone else's. I expect the same from everyone. And not some overly even-keeled, heavy on the grave intonations, under the surface kind of anger plays, either. Those are SO obvious. It's still anger. And it's insulting.

I love him. I know this. But just saying that it's forgiven (his expectation after the apology), 20 minutes after the words had left his bile spitting mouth...I don't know. Seems unlikely that most people who consider themselves sound of self-esteem would be "okay" with it.

I suppose what's really going on with me right now, my neck stress twisting up, is that I'm disappointed. In love. Maybe it IS just about getting down in the shit with someone, like he says. And maybe I just don't care to if that's the nature of it.

wax on, wax off

I have realised that no matter how much I've learned, no matter how cautious I am, I invariably will fall for someone bent on hurting me. I honestly don't think I believe in love anymore. What's the use? It's just a freakin' distraction. I suppose that when your 25 year old boyfriend calls you a 32 year old failure it is most certainly difficult to get an unbiased perspective from yourself. Nevertheless, I am finished with chasing boys and dressing them up like men and expecting them to act with respect and kindness. Sheep's fucking clothing, radio listeners.

I swore, after the comedian, that I would never let anyone talk to me with that kind of unkempt rage ever again. You know the kind...it billows out like noxious gas and then chokes you with surprising might. It's as if I have now just experienced that "one too many" feeling. One too many guys who think it's okay to have a rage-a-thon because I have decided not to engage in the bullshit.

Failure. Hmmm. Do I consider myself a failure? I really don't. With the amount of shit I have been through, the lessons I've learned, the true and great friends I have made, I can't exactly go back to sinking with the ship, can I? And I don't think I am. And I don't think I ever will again.

But maybe to him I really am a failure. When you enter a new relationship you have this foggy eyed naiveté, you are both on your best behaviour...you use words like love and loyalty and forever. But it's an experiment without hypothesis or observation, because neither person has really shown their filthy little underbelly. That gets exposed later. When the commitment has already been made, when the agreement of not fucking other people is ratified. That's when the shit hits the ceiling fan.

And I suppose my shit wasn't worth it and I can't possibly continue on after something like that is said to me...I would think of it always, every sentence out of his mouth, I'd be wondering.

Sweet Jesus, life is a trip. I know I will be okay. I always am. More so than ever before. No man, boy or cloaked wolf will EVER take that from me again.

Cheers folks,

I love you all...love each other. Because sometimes it's the only way to get the shit off the walls. Love...and Windex.