bottles and snow.

My fiancee left me for another man. Am i angry? No. Do i want to smash that guy’s face in with a manhole cover? Surprisingly no. Is she possibly giving him hugs and kisses that i think should be given to me? most likely. But mad I am not. I can’t even to start giving you an explanation. It wasn’t because i didn’t love her, which i do, but as to decipher why i am not angry, i don’t understand.

i guess i can start out by saying, they deserve each other. not in a sarcastic or pessimistic way. i’ve done my share of lurking and deducing situations before my thoughts move into fruition. they love each other no matter how much either of them want to debate that, they do. they’ve known each other several lifetimes over and i became just another stipulation in her life. there is no doubt in my mind that she will become something amazing, no doubt at all, but as far as me remaining in her picturesque life, i have no more hopes for. She truly is one of the most amazing people i’ve ever met, and believe we can be happy together when she learns how to be truly honest. but that isn’t the case, and i’ve realized this. every girl needs her secrets and i personally love to be in the pit of despair. not by choice, but every action i act upon and every word i say lead to despair. i cannot help this as this was the way i was raised, but with her, she dowed me more. she showed me despair was never the answer to things, that despair was something that was temporary, inconvenient, and probably pointless. but the fact is, she is gone, back into the world she idolizes, and me, back into my world of despair. i’ve neglected my best friends for far too long because of her, while canivingly planned a life with her behind my best friends’ backs. but today, is a different day, and i’ve “had a good run.” and back into the arms of my best friends, the bottles in the snowfall.

I’ve no wish to argue to win her back or anything like that, because frankly, i’ve done that too many times. and if that’s done with someone whom you wish to call your wife or fiancee, then, that’s been done one too many times. i’m letting her go. do i wish to? no. NO. i still love her very much and know that she has become the one person in my life that made me feel visible. but i also have to realize that she is loved by many more people than i have to count. i sincerely hope that it’s not because of her beauty that grants her the love she received and is reveiving. i hope that those who genuinely love her, love her for the person behind the fasade of glamour. i didn’t love that, i loved the soul instead.

through the series of research i’ve done on her past lovers, i’ve found that i was a simple combination of all of them, yet i was not a full compilation myself, a blank, an amoeba. i was to be molded and heated into something, and i had fully believed that the person to do the molding was her. but that was not the case. the person doing the molding was supposed to be me, WITH her influence. As the situation seems, i didn’t need her at all, i just needed her temporarily to mold myself as inspiration. she showed me the light and then took it away. she could do that with the wink of her eye, or the pucker of her lips. dangerously amazing.

yes i loved her, but it would only add to my demise if i continued to do so. though, i must thank her for providing me with the last chapter of my book as i was never able to cleverly think of one. but this ending seemed fitting as i do not wish to fight for her any longer. reason and obligation escape me as i contemplate my next tactics as i always have, but this time… we’re both at peace with the result. that’s a lie, i am not at peace, and never will be, but that’s the way my mind works, otherwise the entire world would make me yawn.

of course i do have a feeling i can’t identify inside me telling me to fight for her, to try to win her back, but why ruin such a good thing? the man she left me with completely clicks with her, in every way possible. They love the same things, have the same understanding for art, which i completely understand but refuse to condone given this day and age, and they make each other smile. i noticed i had stopped making her smile when i began to open my heart to her, but kept it secret. the truth is, my open heart really is just a metaphorically opened heart. blood, veins, plasma, everywhere, ugliness to those who can’t denote that. and it was, my own heart. it had started withering long ago, before i even understood what love meant, and continues to wither today, and that’s okay with me. i had known this, yet i still impersonated a person whom i thought would appreciate and cherish the healing she has provided. she has healed nothing. not a bit. but what she did do, was show me that that wasn’t the only purpose for the heart. i had seen it. i had felt it in cold nights, and i had believed in it. i love her for trying as hard as she did, but i really am, at the bottom of it all, a cold son of a bitch.

I am not mad that she left me, i’m, to be frank, more sincerely glad that she has found someone to make her happy. and i’ve been told and have read countless time that when you do love someone, you have to let them go. it was always, “let them go,” wasn’t it? i supposed the philosophers back then also knew despair to be the result of any of the heart;s pursuits and life. In my life, i was happiest with her, but in all actuality, it’s selfish to try and continue that because she wouldn’t be happy. so my one unselfish act i suppose, is to let her stay with the man she belongs with, and not try to conflict her any further. she is still the one person that understands me best, and is my best friend, but friendship changes when the unsavory ingredient of love is thrown into the mix, and so, i lose the love of my life, along with the best friend i’ve ever had.

this has nothing to do with my vented blog, but i will say that my best memory of the life i longed for, was that little red velvet couch. we took a long walk through subtle starving suburbia and fell upon it. we fell in love with it, and the both of us carried the little two seater red velvet couch 4 blocks back to my house. at that moment, was the moment i truly didn’t feel like my usual self destructive and loathing self anymore, at that moment, i felt as if we really could conquer that facetiousness the world shoved down our throats. at that moment, i knew our cliched love was not a cliche. and the next day, i walked into a cold and desolate room to find her luggage and belongings have all vanished. not even a note to signify the confusion in her heart and soul. i remember not feeling angry or sad nor did i want to find answers to qualm my thirst for justification. i found that the cold and empty room, was already the answer she had given me.


1 Comment

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One response to “bottles and snow.

  1. shut up, jesse, you hurt just like the rest of us, and you’re not fooling anyone.

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