The Manicheans

I know you want to hurt me because you think I hurt you. You don’t seem to understand that our relationship was ill, and that nothing could be fixed unless both of us worked at it. I’m not here to cast the blame, I’ve moved on already. Yes, I still cry thinking about what life with you could have been, if everything had worked out. So many things went wrong from the start. I fell in love with an idea, not you. I realize it now. You never were what I thought you could be, and all my dreams and wishes were instantly blown away when I sadly came to that conclusion.

You never looked at things the same way I did. We both stared in opposite directions, thinking that someday we would converge, but we never did. I’m sorry it took this long to understand that we just were not meant to be together. So now, whatever you do, your spite and your evilness, I forgive you. I forgive the man who hurt me and made me cry, I forgive the soul that never loved me the way I expected to be loved, I forgive the brain that never grasped my thoughts, and I forgive the heart that never felt the pain and the sorrow I was going through. You could never be what I wanted you to be. You could never be the father of my children, you could never cherish me and protect me the way I expected to be cared for. I forgive your greed, your selfishness, your absence of thought, your anger, your addictions, your friends, your family, and everything else that just made my existence a freaking living hell.

You’re the biggest son of a bitch I’ve ever met in my entire life. I guess that love can be cruel sometimes, and thanks to you, I learned my lesson. Now I know what shit truly tastes like.

Farewell to you, and maybe you’ll go to heaven, who knows, the Gods might forgive you too someday.

I’m getting high on working a lot. The more hours I put in, the more I push myself to do more.

It’s exhilarating. I come home and I’m drained, but I feel good. In the past, I always got criticized for being so busy, not being able to go out or drive away to the Catskills every weekend. Well…. I don’t really care now. Some people would tell me that I’m wasting my youth because I don’t take advantage of my free time the way I should. My response to them is simple: before I was miserable, and I’m happy now. Happiness is a very subjective thing, so cut the crap and leave me alone.

Even if I will never forget the misery my marriage put me through, I think I’ll be able to forgive and make peace with myself.

There’s a bright road ahead of me, and I like that a lot.

This is strange. I woke up today, and I felt at peace. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the same person I see every day. But inside, it just felt different. I got dressed, and put on my make up. When it was time for me to pick the jewelry I would wear, I aimed for the ring that I received from my husband for my law school graduation. I hated this ring when we separated. I even wanted to sell it. But now, I’m proud to have it on my finger.

I think I’m slowly moving on, only keeping the best memories and letting go of the rest. It doesn’t matter how angry I am. This won’t change anything. I have to just accept the fact that we’re not together anymore, and I’m happier now.

I’m pushing myself hard at work, and it pays off. My job and my selfish happiness are all what matter to me at the moment.

Oh yeah, and my cats too. They’re really cute.

I could not wake up this morning. It felt like my eyelids wanted to stayed glued together forever. I had the weirdest dream last night too.

I dreamt that I was visiting some friends who were having a party. One girl whom I did not know had prepared some dessert and gave some to everybody but me. I got upset and I left, to find myself in a poor neighborhood, living in a crumbling apartment with a view of the same old crappy buildings across the street. I remember vividly seeing electrical posts standing like post apocalyptic trees in front of each house; high voltage lines running like a spiderweb in between each facade; and the dirt, everywhere on people’s faces, as if I had landed in an underdeveloped country. The sewer smell and the horrific sadness of the whole neighborhood overwhelmed me instantly and I felt depressed. I sought comfort by looking for my cats; but found only one of them. After looking for the other, I realized that the neighbor across the street was waving at me. I thought he wanted to say hi so I waived back. He was standing on the roof of his three story high building, and it did not even strike me at first that he was holding something behind his back. He displayed a toothless smile that looked too crazy to be nice; I immediately got puzzled and wondered what the heck he wanted. Then I saw it. He pulled from behind his back a cat. My cat. He held her by the scruff of the neck, victoriously showing it to me. And suddenly, he dropped her. I screamed. The cat fell in the emptiness of the space between the rooftop and the ground. My heart beat faster and I broke into a sweat. I saw her totally helpless, going down like a bag of sand. I started crying when she abruptly stopped falling, letting go of her last breath. My tears stopped too. When I looked back up at the guy, he was laughing hysterically, holding my pet by an invisible fishing line.  He dangled my dead cat like a toy right in front of my eyes and laughed even more when he saw the look of horror on my face.

Then I dreamt of asshole guys and my ex-husband.

Now you understand why I’m tired today.

I had a dream last night. I dreamt that my husband and I were getting back together. What a nightmare! In my thoughts though, everything worked out for the best. He had changed… What a fluke.

I have no other motivation right now but working and working more, always harder, just to forget the bullshit I’ve been put through for all these years. I’m growing bitter. I don’t like guys anymore, I’m suspicious all they want to do is to fuck me and then break my heart. I’m sure I’m not the first one and the last one who feels this way, but I’m talking about my experience and it truly sucks. I hate men. I really do. I don’t want a relationship, I don’t want even a single one of them even wanting me or touching me. Leave me the fuck alone.

I’m becoming more and more distant with everybody. All I want right now is to be on my own, with my kitties, and I want to work, write and get tattooed.

End of story. The rest can wait, and seriously, I know I’m saying how fucking fed up I am right now and in two days I’m going to go back to my hopeless romantic mode.

June 9, 2011. In exactly 3 days it will be my three year anniversary. Well, not that it matters anymore.

I guess I kind of knew even three years earlier that this relationship was doomed to fail. I gave it a shot anyway. Who does not believe in miracles?

Life takes turns we don’t expect but I’m happy the hell is over. Now I have time for myself.

I hate this guy. He thought he could screw me over and then pretend like nothing happened, but life does not work that way. I’m angry. I want to use my fists and punch him hard right where it hurts real bad. He’s a tool, like every other guy before him. All they want is to screw me over and over and they’re too stupid to realize that they’ve shot themselves right in the foot. I don’t forget. Never. All the crap they put me through, I recall every second of it.

I can just hope that they will pay for their mistakes. What goes around, comes around. So for that, I’ll stay and watch.

I’m scared. I’m on my own now and I wonder whether I’ll be ok. When I think of people who live with less than I what make I can’t help but ask myself, why do I freak out?

I’m killing myself at work, because I’m thirsty for more money. I’m not such a big spender… I’m thinking of getting rid of some designer bags I purchased while I was married because shopping gave me a sense of fulfillment at the time. I remember falling asleep dreaming about these bags, waiting to finally buy them because they were the only thing that made me happy. Now when I look at them, I still like them but I don’t feel the same need to have them around anymore.

Maybe they’re an investment. That’s what I kept telling myself not to carry the guilt of blowing thousands of dollars in one spree. I like to think that I’ve grown up and I’ve changed for the better since I don’t shop like that anymore. Being single again also forced me to slow down on the luxury expenses… They don’t quite fit in my budget anymore. It’s not like I can have a Vuitton instead of paying my rent.

I feel challenged by this new life I’ve chosen for myself. I can’t really tell what the future will hold for me but I can only hope everything will turn out for the best.

I can’t sleep. It’s past midnight and my muse has come back to haunt me. She wants me to stay up and write for her, feeding her insatiable need for attention while I lose myself in her gaze. She talks to me and whispers so many beautiful things, it’s hard to resist her. I drift on her smile and do my best to keep her content, but deep inside I know she’s getting impatient with me.

It’s not my fault, I cry out loud. I have to work! I can’t make a living just by staying in, writing like a freak! Well, maybe one day I will. But right now, it’s all a distant dream.

She looks away, acting annoyed. I’m sorry for being so rational, maybe I should listen to my artistic side a little more.

I still have so much to do. It’s becoming difficult to deal with everything at the same time.

My muse pats me on the shoulder and reassures me. She will be there waiting until I have enough time to dedicate to her.

And then with a wink she adds: and stop playing with your cats. They’re cute, but let’s be serious. Who’s the real inspiration here?