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DaRk AnGel : Why Home : December 2005 : Christmas Eve's eve... RANT... Anger... Hurt...

Christmas Eve's eve... RANT... Anger... Hurt...

I have spent much of today wrapped in blankets totally succumbing to depression. I am tired of jumping and running at the wrong numbers that call. I am tired of so much pain for loving you so much. I am tired of making you into something you are not…


I always thought you kind, loving, giving and most of all forgiving. But in reality I guess you truly are none of that. You have treated me without respect from day one. As long as your needs were met and fulfilled, as long as I listened to the endless liturgy of poor me, as long as I sent you lots of gifts, you were the woman of my dreams.

In the end, whatever drunken angry statements I made, were out of total frustration caused by your repeated dishonesty and constant rejection. Have your friends.. Have your life of no passion, no feelings, of drunken smiles and nightly booze and xanax. Have it all. You deserve it!

The sad thing is that you know you are more than all that. Worth more than all that. More talented than all that. Yet you settle for what you deem safe and feeling comfortable. It will be ripped away much sooner than later and you will be standing alone, your silicone friends gone, retired doing their own thing, barely remembering you. Your daughter married and tired of being the adult in your relationship living her own life. One day it will be you and your job and nothing else, that is, if it has not always been that way. I am not sure. Your friends are your boredom relief agents, or so you see it. In fact they are your escape from the depths of you.. Those depths consisting of the ugly demons and the beautiful pools are what I loved about you. Not the superficial junk that you claim to be your consistency.

I do know now you do not love me. I do know now your words were as hollow as your soul. For one does not treat someone they loved as you have I. I have more than atoned for my mistakes with you. The words were ones of anger and hurt, which were totally in response to the rejection of permanency in our relationship. In the end they were your fault, your doing, and the excuse that you were looking for.

My words opened up the can of smelly fish that was your life, it had to air out, and you will never be the same because of it. You should be thanking me for shaking your throne. And I stood by while the stink diluted, I washed the tears from your soul, I helped you to believe, in you. And in the end I am treated as less than a friend, unforgiven and damned. You hated the pictures I took of you because of the double chin.. You hated me because I am the mirror of what you really are. And you loved me for that same reason.

So I am the dark angel.. I know it, you know it. You made it come to pass.

All I have ever asked from you was honesty. Just the FUCKING TRUTH. What was happening in your mind and heart while you professed my greatness to your heart? What were you ashamed of? What was it that made me something you wanted to be your dirty little secret and not proud of. I introduced you proudly to people. I spoke of you being an active part of my life. I did the right things and got the wrong responses. Will you ever give me the truth I deserve?????????? What exactly was all this about to you?

God I hate the thought of dying with a broken heart, when the one causing it was really not worth it. But so be it. A lot of life I will never understand, and I accept the unanswered questions when there is no one to ask. There is someone to ask this time, who arrogantly thinks they are above response. Who has branded me and made me ashamed of whom I am.

Who I am is ten times the person they will ever be.

Who I am is a thousand times the gift that they were worth.

Who I am is really what they describe themselves as, but will never be.

She who called herself unconditional loving and a giver, lied not only to me, but to herself as well. And she surrounds herself with people who are what they are not, all playing a game, where the rule is never tell the other, the truth about themselves or their lives. Like the role playing the kids do on the internet, is how they live their lives. In the end P.C. will not mean Politically Correct. To those people it will mean they were actors that acted like they were living a happy life. Living a life measured by the cost of the clothes and houses they live in. A life where there is an ultimate moment of facing what they never were.

Then they will see that they had it backwards.. Instead of trying to live P.C. that life is really all about C.P. It is where the joy and the wealth is. Caring People are the ones that truly find the peace and happiness of life lived well.