chetticus (chetticus) wrote,

This vehicle came with a bad clutch.

Having the gears abruptly changed from "I love you" to "I hate you" has been a hateful and hurtful ordeal. This unwelcome (though not wholly unanticipated) shift has made its mark

The throttle of relationship turmoil drives the engine of the heart to spin faster and faster, the winding scream of the emotional transmission trumpets the stress of the internal mechanics, once an appropriately alarming crescendo is reached, the lever is thrown and physics fight chance, metal breaks against mettle, and the entire frame of the body is wracked with that awful physical jolt and the mind lurches forcefully into the battered perspective geared wholly and completely contrary to any previously held sentiment.

I feel cheated and wronged but ultimately I have to say that she performed exactly like the person would for whom I believed her to be (this sentence doesnt make sense). I gave what I called love in spite of the fact that I had grown to dislike her. Maybe she was perceptive enough to see through my efforts, maybe she knows that despite all our feigning at real sentiment, we were both pretending at something that neither of us were capable. She was and is a spoiled human whos been handed a living, a home and nothing but opportunity, the only adversity shes suffered was the self imposed misery of running on the wrong side of the tracks because it was maybe exciting for her to see how the other half lived... The liberty of casual drug use and college living on someone else dime knowing that down the line shed still be provided for has created in her, a pattern of never truly accepting a task that might be difficult, never having to follow through on a losing proposition, and feeling entitled to demand all things of all others all at once not caring about the reprecussions of failure on the part of the others, said failure just created a credit in her mind to be paid at a later date, and she was more than happy to extend credit just enough to create a debt of emotion that could never be paid. Once the hooks were in, shed have you on your knees for good. A promise that once past transgressions were paid off, real happiness would follow but the principal was never touched, the balance of respect would never become square.

I said to myself, ill bow and scrape for the time being, and see how this plays out. When it was obvious that there wouldnt be an end, i became bitter. It was my goal, once I got back on my feet, to give her the dressing down I felt she needed, comeuppance would be served and shed be the one abandoned. When the hammer dropped on me first, I hit the cieling with rage.
I didnt see it before, but another woman scolded me for it "You suffered in silence and then blew up, and thats unacceptable" and shes right. I should have just left. I should have stood up for myself in the beginning and walked out. It would have been the better thing, the higher ground. but im plagues with a dual nature, a part of me was convinced that eventually things would get better. That if I just put in the time, it would turn around and become bearable.

And now its time to turn the microscope on myself. The girl said that I thought I was special and unique, different from everyone else, and in that feeling I had alienated myself from all others. Id say that im probably more like a stray dog, when im hungry I eat, when im tired I sleep, ill lay where I please and im indifferent to the company of most others. There is a uselessness about me, i drift without direction or cause, I bite the hand that feeds me and follow rank instinct rather than true reason. There were days I took from her because it was offered and i over valued what I provided to her, though that was mostly because that had become the tone of our relationship, the value of my actions, and what peace or hapiness those actions purchased from her stores of "love"... What use does a dog have for commerce?

So at the end of it all, im a lowly dog, my heart is a broken machine with vital parts missing, and the biggest relationship of my adult life has ammounted to little more than a post-dated check.

Rebecca Jean Anderson, if the person you showed yourself to be these last few months is who and what you are, and the thing you were when we fist met was just a phantom of promises that couldnt be kept then I think that I may hate you. If it brings me tears to write that does it mean that its not true or does it confirm a notion thats been brewing for a while.

The hate comes from the frustration of allowing myself to be made to feel low and small when I should have felt loved and victorious. That violent disparity between "how could you..." and "why didnt i..." proves fertile ground for anger and resentment. Today I hope I never see you again, I hope tomorrow the feeling still applies and i hope against hope that years from now I dont even recognize these words, like theyre a story written about some stranger and if Im luckier still, i wont be looking back at this at all, good, bad or otherwise.

Smell ya later blah blah blah,
smell ya later FOREVER
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