One Mass of Misery

Originally written October 18, 2009 at 10:06 pm

You realize one day, sitting in a empty classroom, leaning against one of those plain professor desks that you're wrong, and the problem with being wrong is, you're struggling against a pain that is connected to other pain like the chains of amino acids in a protein, all twisted up into a glob, one mass of misery.

Where does it start? Where does it end?

You lied to yourself, you knew what you were doing when you did it, but somehow, you thought it was better this way, lying to oneself is the perfect excuse for injuring others--how can you convict when you have no intent? But the only person you hurt was yourself.

You're hurt because you know he doesn't want you, and he doesn't love you, and somehow you think you can ignore these two statements and march forward like it doesn't matter--when it does. You can't forget it--he said the words outloud, unmistaken, undeniable--it's in the back of your mind every time you talk to him. How can you face rejection every goddamn day? And pretend it's okay? You're okay with it, maybe he's okay with it.

Maybe it's just not. fucking. okay.

One of his very inalienable rights is pursuit to his own happiness, and that means he can end your relationship with him. He can do that.

But for you, you're fighting the pain, only you're not doing such a great job of it, which is why everything hurts. Because while you can lie to your head, you can't lie to your heart. To your soul. It won't fucking listen. And it knows, all the love in the world can't make someone want you.

But you, you, you don't want to hear that because then that means you have to let go, and admit that your experiment in Vegas was a failure. That you failed. That it failed. And like calculus, you'll just keep taking it over and over again, until one day, some day in the distant future, when everything makes sense.