The Moment I've Been Waiting For

It finally happened! The event I've been waiting for since I first decided to hang out with Kirk and have a non-relationship with him. I needed some reason to break it off, some reason so impenetrable that it would mean for once and for all. And here it is, in the form of bodily fluid: the wanker spat on me. Literally. Which to me is the most repugnant, unredeeming quality I've ever encountered with any other human ever before. He grabbed all my things and threw them into my bag, losing my all-time favourite ring in the process. My glasses case is another victim of his tyranny.  I told him to find the ring and I assume he'll be keeping the glasses case safe somewhere. My plan is to wait until I get them back before delivering the blow. No one spits on me and gets away with it. He just killed any and all chances of me ever sticking around. He'd die if he knew I'd been playing around with the idea, too. The idiocy of some people is astounding.

Enter, Monster.

I didn't know how good I'd gotten at holding my feelings back. Not just from others, as is generally the case with emotionally sound folk. But I'm so far down the rabbit hole that I've somehow managed to keep myself from feeling shame.  I know it's what I'm supposed to be feeling and I can feel it threatening to break out from the wall I've built in front of its gateway, but that wall as it turns out, is 30 feet thick and made of lead, gold titanium alloy and some sequins just for pizaz. Because when I build something, it doesn't matter how destructive it is,  what matters is what I see on the surface...just like every other aspect of my life.  Shallow.  Vain. Despicable. I'm so fundamentally screwed up. In parts I didn't know were even there to be screwed with in the first place.  When I say "screwed up" I realize it suggests someone ELSE doing something to me. But that isn't the case.  There are aspects to my being I know my dad played a part in screwing up but this would be a stretch overkill to suggest he's the reason for every crappy thing I do, whether it stems from relationships or not.  I'm taking full responsibility for my horrid behaviour for once in my life.  Beauty is only skin deep.  Bur monstrosity runs like blood and it's all I've got my veins. The 'good' that people sometimes claim to see is actually just cleverly masqueraded  filth.  I'm a liar. To myself most of all.  What's scary is that I don't know where lies truth any longer.  To say the lines 'blurred' would be like saying the pyramids are 'kinda oldish'. No wonder I can't ever find my true self.  I lost that years ago. I thought I'd regained some Self to fill this shell with, but I know now that I haven't and never will. Love eludes me. I repress, oppress and do less for the sake of love than I've ever done for the sake of anything. Once love eludes you, once you elude it, there's finally no more hope.  Hope explodes into the aether the moment you abdicate from love, filling the hearts of those who still can and do it openly. Fully. Completely.  I've always wondered what fueled that breed of infinitely beautiful young women, the ones with subtle freckles, shiny, thick and healthy hair, perfectly shaped, perfectly white teeth.  Slim, hard bodies, these women not only radiate physical health and well being, but it's magnified by the radiance of their souls.  I have no such radiance. My beauty lies solely on the surface, nothing deeper than the thickest layer of flesh.

Relationships are the point.  Of what? If you have to ask it can't yet be explained.  Not being able to be in one...that's the rub.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\.  What makes me so sad, though, is the notion of "we do what we think is right in the moment" and how it applies to this situation. Why do I lie about things so easily? Well, fear, for one.  I'm a liar.  I'm fearful of others and what they can do to me.  Only I've forgotten that I can still do thing to others