…I was stunned, at least at first, then all these little bits and pieces started coming together in my head. I realized that I had been willfully ignoring the signs. Mr. Complicated had stopped flirting with me and acted shocked and surprised when I flirted with him. He had been obliquely talking about someone being in his dreams of being afraid to say it out loud for fear of it never coming true. My sad, pathetic self wanted to believe that maybe he was trying to hint about me but because of the assorted complications he was afraid to do anything about it yet. Boy, what a damn fool I was.

I wanted to rant and scream, I wanted to lash out and hurt H* and Mr. Complicated, I wanted to tear them apart verbally and make them hurt as much as I did. Instead I took a deep breath and talked to H*, I listened to her feeble excuses and her pain and I decided that I would be hurt and angry but I would forgive her. After all, how could I blame her for wanting Mr. Complicated for all the same reasons that I had wanted him? How could I hate her and throw away our friendship, our sisterhood for falling for the same blandishments that I fell for?

I did tell her how much it hurt and let her see my pain in that I couldn’t even turn to my two dearest friends and find comfort in them because they caused it. They are the direct reason for all this pain and breathlessness. I made sure she knew exactly what sort of interaction Mr. Complicated and I had had so she knew it wasn’t just me mooning over someone who hadn’t ever given me a lick of hope. After that I stuffed all of my hurt and pain into a little box and tried to enjoy my weekend with my sister. It was only sort of successful as you might guess.

Once I got back home I spent the next two days alternating between being numb and crying and being viciously angry. Eventually my emotions became less tumultuous and I started thinking instead of reacting. Unfortunately thinking isn’t really much help because my thoughts turned into poisonous little weasels twisting and gnawing on themselves.

You see, I want to preserve my relationship with my sister, my dearest friend but now I wonder if she can be trusted. What kind of person is she really? The nasty weasels of my thoughts whisper that she is one of those mean girls and the song “Jolene” by Dolly Parton starts playing in the background. It’s not like she didn’t have a good man, one that doted on her, who showered her with love and care. The same man she had told me that he was the goddess’s gift to her, that she loved him, and couldn’t help feeling that he was meant to be and yet she tossed him to the side to chase after Mr. Complicated. The man that I had confided to her was the only man I had had a serious interest in in years. She knew that he was married and was even friends with his wife, she knew that I was interested in him but hadn’t let it get too far because he was married, she knew that I would have fought for a chance to be with him were he available. She knew what she was doing and didn’t care how much hurt and pain she would cause she just decided that she wanted Mr. Complicated and to hell about anyone else.

Now she is playing the martyr, saying how she can’t stand how much Mr. Complicated is hurting, saying how bad she feels about hurting me and saying that she accepts the consequences of her actions. I wonder how badly she really feels or is this just another act? How real is she? My heart is so torn to pieces. I know that if I can’t come to terms with all the nasty, weaselly thoughts that it will poison my relationships; not just what is left of my friendship with H* or whatever friendship is left with Mr. Complicated but with anyone who comes after. I am already so closed up and afraid to feel and love that I haven’t dated in years. How much more harm has this situation created? Will I ever stop being such a fool? Will there ever be a friend or someone special who will see me and want me for something other than a tool to use and abuse? What the hell is wrong with me?

All this and more circles and twists inside my mind whenever I stop moving and it steals my breath and lays lead weights on my heart and soul. I need to move forward and find healing but all I want to do is freeze my heart to ice and stop feeling. If I could stop feeling maybe I could stop hurting? My eyes turn to the razor blades in the drawer and I see in my mind’s eye the blade cutting into the skin of my arms and legs making the pain inside of me real, physical pain to distract me from the emotional hurt that weighs me down. I turn away and leave the blades where they are. That path is unhealthy and unwise…

So instead I go in search of my journal to write out my feelings and frustrations but it eludes me. Which is how I came here. I don’t know if anyone but me will ever read this. Maybe they will think me a twit or maybe they will find in these writings an echo of their own pain and confusion.

I know not where this path will lead but I hope to find a renewed sense of self and joy in life at the end of it.





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