In Search For I
I’m coming to a further sense of appreciation for what I’ve experienced over the past few years. I’m completely serious when I say this; anyone who knows me can tell you that I don’t have a sarcastic bone in my body. Now, organs are a different story. I might have a couple of those laying around somewhere. But allow me to elaborate though on my first statement.
I’ve had a rough year and a half, and I’m trying to pick up the pieces now. I recently was fucked over in a 4 year relationship with a girl I was nearly certain I was going to marry. For better or worse means not a fucking thing though, when you’re not good enough for the other person anymore; she decided to make up the pathetic excuse of pursuing some husk of a career that she didn’t really believe in anyways, in a life she never could find solace in to begin with. I found out the hard way that she was already chewing on a new toy, and this one seems like more of a puppet than I was.
I guess I can’t be too surprised though. In the last couple years we were together, she changed from everything she (or I, for that matter) ever believed in. She turned from a heavy metal loving, video-game playing, agnostic, loving individual into an image consumed, country loving, narcissistic, god-fearing, deceitful wretch that I can hardly stand to think about anymore.
If you’ve ever starved a flower long enough to see it wilt, you can come to appreciate the value of knowing something beautiful die in front of you. I never trusted easily, and thanks to her I’ve become jaded to love in general.
I turned to online dating out of the misplaced sense of security that I’d be able to see the “nuclear holocaust” of a bad relationship coming miles before it got to me. I was mistaken. I’ve been plagued on multiple sites now by the disease of fraud. People who claimed they were absolutely ready for who I was before they met me, and when the time came for them to be face to face with their hopes or expectations (I’d assume), many of them seemed almost unnerved at the air of certainty I seem to possess. Many of which felt I fed others my opinions in almost a desperately absolute form to which none argue with. Some felt that I was intimidating to the point to where I appeared overbearing, and intense. This facade is not of my own creation as I try to express time, and time again.
I guess it’s my mistake for trying to believe that people are as steadfast in their ambitions, and character as I am. When the majority of the people you know have the fortitude of a glass shield, it’s only a matter of time before they are shattered into something you can no longer recognize, or recreate. You receive a cage of isolation. This cage, is one without a door and no visible people to bring you comfort. The idea of being in exile with one’s own psyche is a frightening concept when every thought you bring to life is an endless storm of doubt and remorse over actions you could’ve done to prevent your current situation.
However, once I phase back into the bad dream I know as my life I think about the dull reality of it all. The pointlessly monochromatic shade of the things I see around me, is never quite as natural as the green and black I now so proudly show off wherever I tend to appear at. The group dissipates slowly, and the shield doesn’t need to be lifted in front so frightfully anymore. There’s little to consider, once you place yourself comfortably in the bosom of people you can trust and share a connection with. The liars fade quickly, and the false images seem to tumble one after the other as if V has once again toppled the dominoes over with a simple tap of his gloved finger. Things seem to make relatively more sense, and black and white is much more distinguishable when the people you once tried to escape are now merely profiles on a poorly designed newspaper.
I now understand what she was running from when she left me. I obviously seemed much more “content” than we began. I slipped back into her arms so comfortably, it was as if I never left; perhaps this was what drove her away. Perhaps she didn’t find attraction in me anymore, which would be a disgustingly devoid way of her informing me that she lied all this time about how I looked in her eyes. Perhaps her changed worldview brainwashed her into becoming more alienated from the person I was, that she knew. Perhaps I seemed “foreign”, in a sense. The thought that I remained the same while she underwent a dramatic transformation has always crossed my mind as being the most logical of situations given the knowledge I have over the puppet she became, and always had tried to hide from me. She’s not a good leader. She was never a decision maker. She didn’t like to tell people what she thought. She forced herself to accept misery as her companion because she couldn’t writhe out of the grave of apathy she made for herself.
I’m alright with this now. She’s off being Jackie O’ to some other poor mother fucker now. I just hope she informed him from the start that she intends to ditch out mid-flight because of a fear of wasting her beauty on one person. I sincerely hope that she has told him that in time she will turn on him; that her resolve is as fragile as the emotional states she drifts through and that given the right circumstances, she will disappoint him in practically every way feasibly imaginable. If she does this, maybe that unlucky soul will have a chance to salvage what’s left of his youth before she drags him along for her trail of tears. But I doubt it…
I feel some sense of remorse for wasting my time, but I think I’m coming to a better grasp on it now. It is a fair consolation for me to know one absolute. I may not be physically attractive, or worldly. I’m not the most financially, or emotionally secure. I’m not the most competent person on the planet, and I’m certainly nowhere near the scale of people on this planet considered to be intellectuals. Here at the summit of self-actualization though; I can feel comfort at the idea that though I don’t know where I’m going, I’m not pretending to know.