Exorcism Fanatica

Ghosting is a shit way to deal with ending relationships. I have first hand been on both sides of them as to why this issue makes me want to pound glass into my knees every time I have to deal with it. In addition to it being emotionally abusive, malignant and shallow – It’s THE weak fucking way to back out of something that maybe didn’t go your way, or maybe was more than you could handle at the time. Either way it’s wrong, and here are MY fucking opinionated reasons why.

That Trust
What you just did was throw out a huge majority of tangible trust that the person will ever hand you again. Because who knows what life is going to throw at you or them next, you have already wrote down that if things get “unmanageable” – your behavior may prove unreliable and could possibly lead to disappearing again without fucking warning.

That Shattering
This behavior is directly abusive, especially to people who are very empathetic. The leaving without a word being said is emotionally damaging similar to people dealing with death. The immediate absence with no resolution is selfish and cowardly and shows that you had no business being in a relationship in the first god damned place.

That Reasoning
Everyone deserves an explanation (excluding physical abuse obviously). When you agree to be in a relationship with someone you most definitely are responsible for your reasons to end (and ending) of said relationship. Just because the city is not your shade of red doesn’t mean you can wipe it all clean when you still have the paint brush in your hand. BOTH parties owe each other ONE direct chance to explain themselves.

That Going On
The other person has a fucking life. And they have no reason to spend weeks or months waiting to see “why you left”, or “why you fucked a co-worker”. People need the resolution to move on with things, and your ghosting can send them into an ‘infinite loop’ of trying to figure out and resolve what they did wrong. The sooner you tell them, the sooner the healing starts. Just because you DON’T HURT and moved on quickly doesn’t mean the other party is immune. They are entitled to that resolution, YOU OWE THEM THAT.

That Respect
If you can sit for weeks after ghosting a long-term relationship without any resolution then you obviously never respected the person long enough to even commit to them. This is abhorrent behavior when there are still inbound feelings. I can’t even describe the amount of damage this does. There is no guarantee in love ever, but as one side fails the other side falls. This lack of integrity reflects upon your character, and other people in future relationships will see that.

That It’s Fucking Over
You could just say that. It may sound harsh but I would rather of heard that 100% of time, every time. At least then you know. And although blunt hurts, blunt is definite. And sometimes you need to hear that. Put on your fucking adult pants and handle your shit. Life goes on, people get over shit. The fact that you remain to ‘be weak’ and trail it on into some fucking nightmare ‘go between’ is ridiculous. Own your actions so that you BOTH can move on.

And fuck shit. I hate this post. It’s one I’ve written and deleted twice. But I guess coming back to writing it again shows the validity in that I need to leave this here. This type of treatment just really vividly pisses me the fuck off.

 

He kisses her. She wants to believe him, so she says nothing.

Note 1013
Just disappear off the horizon, don’t even finish a sentence. Let all the pieces fall where they may. Shrug your shoulders and walk off like nothing was ever there. That’s how people handle entanglements in this time. Run as far and as fast as you can, it makes no difference. Thanks.

Note 1048
I’ve hated May and June for the last 11 years. Like a plate full of needles that you have to swallow. Thinking “well if things all land in the right place” it will be fine. But odds are that will not happen. Just digest. And the metal will taste like blood. And it will paint your face even if you are quiet as fuck. Charge on. I leave marks over my shoulder for every time I have to walk by something I don’t care to even touch. Throw it all the fuck away. It’s everyone’s answer anyway.

Note 1037
I’ll hashtag #wastedtime or some other fucking witty crap to throw into a sparkling bucket of social garbage. Like it matters anyway as people are fueled by “likes and thumbs” so much they believe it’s going to ignite themselves in a way that makes them sleep again. Good luck with that.

 

“I’m not a poet. I’ve never moved anyone with my words. Maybe that’s why they chose me.” – Solaris

 

Heavy rain with a chance of fail.

I could rattle on about anger but I’m not. I could stumble through some epiphany of “what does anything mean anymore” regarding the deafening roar of the present but I’m not. I could say that “hey oh I’m not sad at all”, but I won’t. Because it’s mostly untrue. I could braid any of the previous into some kind of frail “self-help bullshit” story like I have in the past but I will try not to. Because I’m really not compelled to do any of that. As of now.

So exactly what? I guess I would say that I am mostly numb. Outlined in shades of abandonment. Definitely let down.  Slightly shocked, but then again not really. Do I care? Absolutely. Do I contain the energy to feel like I need to add resolution to anything? Of course not. Did I behave and adhere to things that are solely my own? I feel I did. I don’t claim a perfection of  behavior by any means but I do have a predictable “relationship regiment” that I am likely to follow. Mostly simple things. I don’t lie. I have not been unfaithful in 22 yrs to anyone that I have been romantically involved with. I don’t rally in manipulation nor do I subplot mind games to outwit the obstacles of love. I trust easy. I trust the honesty that I receive, and I value that brutal honesty highly.

Nothing is perfect. We are not wired that way. We are littered in flaws. It’s ok, I understand human consciousness becomes oblivious at times. Like tunnel vision, the blurring of sidelines, choices become less apparent all the time…we fall, we fail – I get it – over and over. But still, ultimately when you step back (and you should do that quite often), you always have to be ready to own your damn life decisions. The good and the bad. You know people can preach about “tough love” and whatnot.. Yes. It’s not rocket science. Life owes you nothing. Ever. There is no fine print in the book of the world that says “if you do this, you will get that”. That just does not exist. In every sense of this phrase Always be mindful of your fucking actions, they will paint your story across your face. They will turn the pretty in you, into the ugly that other people see. And that to me, is the most disheartening residual fallout in relationships. I never give up on people easy. I rarely throw in the towel until I absolutely have to. I am always the first person that’s there to pick you up, holding the pieces against my side saying “this is fixable, just give it the time – it’s ok”.

It’s the cancer of half-truths that are sewn into what you want to read as ‘your narrative’. I don’t fully understand how people begin to wear that. They would rather re write their story (ex.” ghosting”) and make it something else so that they can stand outside of the reality of their own choices. It’s easy math I understand, in our brittle lifespan no one wants to feel discord about anything they do – but sometimes you need to step back and say “hey I fucked up, I made a mistake – and I am truly sorry”.

In 46 years of living, I can emphatically say that I can count on less fingers of one hand – the number of people who are capable of even making a sincere statement such as that. And that is why I am numb today. And probably tomorrow. And I’m sure for the next good while. I am tired of making excuses for that behavior. I grow fucking weary of all the nights wrestling with “why is it a fucking chore for someone to believe that this isn’t  appropriate – I know inside it’s not, so why would I attempt to convince myself that it is?”. Breathe decently. It defines you. Your heart does count for something. If you are not happy where you are, then change it. People will get the fuck over it. But understand that there are finite ramifications in everything you do. Even when you run away from something, it’s still fucking waiting there at 3am. Sometimes you really have to destroy everything in your comfort zone to find your peace, and it’s ok – we are human. But also in doing that, you must say “I know what I did. I see how it hurt, I see who it hurt and next time, maybe in the next venture it will be different. I will be different. I will know then that I am still trying to find my way.”

It tires me. I can’t fix what was broke before I was even there. No one can. That is fucking on you. Why I thought I could change something, was asinine. It was my fail, so it’s my fall. And I will miss pieces of it every single day. You will never see what was right, until you admit to yourself what was wrong. And I guess it takes people a life time of bullshit thrown at them to find that.

So find it.

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

A room keyed for everyone, but you.

Note 1176
I yelled through the glass until everything began to drive in slow motion. I have no idea how that story crept upon me, but it closed off every crevice that I attempted to retreat into. People change on a whim while outside forces chisel away with a constant showering of mental debris that ultimately becomes what you thought were stepping-stones in directions that might cling unto stronger merits. It adheres like wet sand, and weighs down the attempts to find any reason, any footnote that could foretell some point of direction that you were headed. You will never know that magnitude. It sews my insides into a thousand knots, each one a pulsing reminder of how it feels to be kept outside of a crowded room. A room keyed for everyone, but you.

And then it all comes spinning down, the awards will be handed out two-fold. For someone who really won’t survive half as long as you did. It will be hollow and transparent. The cardboard walls will dampen and be flung to and fro. It won’t matter, and it will draw all to gray. People will look for you in them, and they will feel lost. Then and only then, will the spiderwebbing synapses of thoughts play out and write the story that you would “want to believe” was going to happen. The one that had already happened, you were just too entangled into believing how you wished people wouldn’t see it for what it was, and only being succumbed to what was really streaming right in front of you. It was real. More tangible then you’ll ever feel. And it slips away just as easy.

It’s written above your head, only you can’t see it. It’s tattooed under your skin, only you can’t feel it. It makes the timbering of your heart rattle when you breathe, leaving you shaken, and tired, and empty. And you will allow it to drag you behind the curtain one more time, until it spins you disarrayed back through piles of your own curtailed decisions. Decisions that now become an undertow over and over, spray painted upon the very direction that you walk. And those new stones will shoulder you repeatedly until your bruises all begin to bleed.

It’s gutting. Like meaty ropes growing out of your sides. Stumbling, with feeble ankles rallying across the grain of the floor. It’s hoping that you find that hearth, in something – anything. It’s being lost, surrounded by arms and you being blind to the touch. I leave it, pulling at my head. I lay there letting the minutes bullet across my face. They stitch me to the floor as I talk the rain into just drowning me out. Drowning me out loudly so that I can crawl under the covering of sleep, again.

 

“You own everything that has happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” -Anne Lamont