So I’m changing computers now, moving all my data from one pc to my mac. I run across an email from a gal I used to date. An email that somehow made it to my inbox from a close friend. An email that was to an ex (her ex, from her), about how she currently felt about him. Granted the feelings were not proudly in my favor, and note be said we had been dating for months (during this).
Anyhow, whatever reasons during that time period, for whatever events that had transpired I still cannot to this day believe that people will try to get away with things they know will surface in a relationship. People cheat, yes we are human, people lie, yes we are human, but for people to hide it and think and play like every things ok is just ludicrous to me.
I can’t preach about too much, but I can get on my soap box and say I have given a lot, to a lot of people. I have not been perfect, and I have erred in my ways plenty of times. I just can’t see how women and men go on and ramble off and write fantasies in their own lives and try to live them out as such.
I mean really this brings me to the whole reason why I am doing this AFE project. I can’t scream loud enough about how many things are in front of people, and how many times people go and repeat the same life patterns. It does not take a rocket scientist to figure things out, by god I’m not one.
So yeah, reading that letter kinda frazzled me. Does it matter now? Nope. Would I have done the same thing over? Yep. I loved her, a lot. Maybe way too much. In ways it kind of brought things to light about how I saw things back then. Maybe I should have been tougher, maybe I should have walked and never looked back. I wish I was smart enough to turn switches off, and not insult myself by chasing things that were destructive to me.
And years past, I have eaten the foulness that people have fed me. I have closed my face and put rags over the scars, because regardless of whether anyone believes it, they are still there.
I have spoken my heart, and received only a cold welcome along with the subtleness of what could be called an exile of jokes and muffled laughter. I could skywrite how I feel and it would never make a difference in or around a grain of sand “opportunity” to relive something that was merely some spit In my face. How fitting.
And that my beautiful dear, brings us to Chapter 3.