I've begun writing this down many times in my head. For a while there I considered not saying anything, but for reasons explained below, I feel I must purge myself for fear of some unknown twitch or stab stealing my legs from under me when I least expect it.
As my older entries have divulged and the people close to me are aware, a long relationship was put to sleep some time ago. Intimacy was the first to go, affection was soon to follow and finally we were merely two close friends sharing space under the same roof. As things passed a state of no return, we took the difficult step, departed on amicable terms, mutual warmth intact, and went our separate ways. For a while I thought we'd both moved on with ease and the pain shifted quickly to mild discomfort and finally disappeared completely. Unfortunately there was more to this story, something which I was made aware of a few days ago.
For the last six months of said relationship, there were, shall we say, more than two people involved in concocting the cold breeze lingering in our shared domicile. I really don't feel like going into detail, but you get the picture.
And the end result? Confusing.
I will now admit to something I never thought would pass my lips: I don't care. Six years worth of memories have been stolen from me, tainted and soiled beyond repair by another's infidelity, yet it hasn't fazed me. Each corner of my heart is intact and the string holding my back skyward is as stiff as before. I'm not saying that because I'm shielding myself or because I want to snap back with passive-aggressive swipes. I'm saying it because it's true.
I've felt the strangest stings of guilt in the last few days because of it. This level of indifference simply doesn't feel natural. It's the first time I've had to encounter something like this (which is not to say such things haven't happened in past relationships; one can never be too sure), so I'm a bit of a tourist in all this. But I'm sure it should have affected me more. Unless...
Part of it is because I knew. Not conciously, not in a way that would lend itself to dialogue, but I knew. You can't live with someone for more than half a decade and not see it in their eyes when there's something tossing inside like a caged animal, completely torn between wanting to be released and staying in its sanctuary under lock and key. Part of it is because my desire had waned to no more than a faint simmer, something which I believe - nay, know - was a shared emotion. Part of it is because I've moved on to new things with virtually no growing pains whatsoever - another sure sign that things were well and truly over before the deal was finally sealed. Part of it is because the relationship had shrunk to a friendship, and no matter how hard you try, a mere friendship cannot function as the sole sustenance for a romantic relationship. Unfortunately that friendship is now destroyed, but that seems to be the only thing troubling me during the quiet hours in darkness.
In a striking quip of irony, Shadow Dialogue has once again played a part in this. My recent entries have painted a picture of a joyful and lively gentleman enjoying, among other things, the company of the fairer sex while waxing poetic on the lightstorm inside. It all served as some kind of catalyst for the burst of honesty that followed. My former lifemate had, after all, gone through similar experiences and (e)motions, but each heartbeat and soft touch was tinted with hues of guilt, deception and secrecy. My moral high ground is shaky at best, but at least I could walk away from the ashes without a myriad of lies pushing my shoulders to the ground. Honesty certainly has a destructive nature, but the ruin it leaves behind can also serve as fertile ground once the dust has settled.
While my words might paint a picture of inner peace & understanding, let's make something clear: I can never forgive her. This is something that will, in some way, haunt me for a long time to come. Perhaps for as long as I live. I'm not expecting or demanding retribution, but a pound of flesh is owed. Not to inflict more pain to the other player in this story, but to serve my sense of justice. That, if anything, has been violated.
Whatever insight I can draw from this is beside the point, an afterthought at best. I would've never wanted things to end on such a note, as there is no doubt in my mind it will cast a shadow on every word my heart speaks in the future. With this turn of events my trust in people is completely, utterly and thoroughly destroyed. It is smashed into so many tiny pieces it's no more than a pile of dust. I'm genuinely worried if and when infatuation turns into something deeper in the future. Whatever my reaction may be, it shall come shrouded in complete mystery.
I'd like to say this will strengthen my heart and make my skin thicker, but it won't. And I don't want it to. Goddamnit, I don't want it to! If I'm into someone, if my heart burns for their touch and my eyes light up when I see their face, if I'm into them full-steam, no holds barred - so be it. I am certainly aware that I can drive a woman into a corner by a mere glimpse of the passion inside, get her on her hind legs with the warmth of my words and drive her headfirst into the snow by being such a hopeless dreamer. And you know what? I wouldn't change that part of me for all the gold of the gods of the sun. Whether or not that's a quality worth praising or hiding isn't a choice anyone but I can make. I choose the former.
You know what? I'm actually a pretty fucking awesome guy.
