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The first and last in a long time

September 7, 2013

Tonight is the first night I have opened my laptop in a month or so. It is the last time I will open it for a while.

I left a party sobbing tonight. Well, I held off on the sobbing until I got to the car. I have been played again.

In the past month, I have lost two close family members. I broke up with my partner and sent him packing. I dropped out of graduate school. I received my level one certification in reiki. I unfriended 100 people on Facebook, including former best friends. I quit smoking. I bought a lot of healthy food. I pushed the Mormons out of my life completely. I have reveled in living alone with just my herd of animals. I let myself fall in love again, only to realize that some shit never changes. And this month has taught me that even if things DO change, the people you love just fucking die anyway.But that won’t be an issue again. I gave “Too Little Too Late” another shot, and you know what? It’s just too little. I deserved more. Fuck you.

I am never falling in love again.  I’m tired of people’s bullshit that’s either “i told you he was shithouse,” “you just need time to heal,” or some combination of both. No. I need to never love again. I am going to find a drug that turns off my ability to love.

Fuck writing.

Fuck painting.

Fuck my jewelry sales.

There is nothing left for me. I trust my family, and even they are hiding something from me.

After the partner moved out, I found a ring box. It was hand decorated with a marble that reads “love.” There is nothing in the box. My family didn’t want to tell me that it had been an engagement ring. The box is empty. So’s my heart. So’s my soul. So it’s apropos to leave me an empty box with the word “love” on it. It should really say, “here’s something you will never fucking deserve.” but the font would have to be really small.

But i have made my decision: I will never wear a wedding ring. I will never raise children. I have never been worth it. I never will be.

Things I will never do again: go to a party where my ex’s parents refuse to acknowledge my existence, and where his ex’s parents are there, loving every minute of the fucking party. I should have thrown my pasta dish at someone’s head.

Never. Fucking, Again.

I’m done writing.

I’m done painting.

I’m done loving.

I’m done making jewelry.

I’m done depending on anyone else.

There is, when all is said and done, absolutely nothing left to hope for.


From → rants

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