Long-pending resentment

Thursday, July 25, 2024

A friend of mine had warned me, "one day resentment for this guy will show up and it'll be hard for you to handle."

Dear reader, I think that day has come.

To be fair to you, the resentment has been wildly public. It showed up in intermittent conversations and check-ins. My therapist knows nothing of the lad so it also explains hiding, and keeping it away means I'm locking up a part of my life that is very clearly bothering me. 

He said some hurtful shit last night. The kind that made me sick the same minute. My mum thinks it's the mall aircon and he thinks it's seasonal viral. I think it's him but I had been sneezing all day yesterday. 

I don't know, I didn't think there would be an onset of resentment but showing irritation with my life and calling the stack of cards I've been dealt with "unbearable" was rude. There have been countless times I've asked consent before laying it out, it took me months to open up and reach out to him when I could just be myself, without trying to be on my toes around, and that's when he lost his shit. 

Of course, he thinks I was lashing out at him and didn't think he did anything wrong. The thing is, he never would. I don't think he understands what's it like facing failure repeatedly. He doesn't get that I have fought very hard and fallen on my face hundreds of times and that I am tired, I'm exhausted. He doesn't see how I'm still trying to keep it together and being my best self. According to him, I'm not claiming what's mine and walking out. He doesn't get that I've done that and paid a price in the past. A price I'm paying to this date in the form of accepting lesser than what I deserve. 

He thinks I should take it up and walk out, a lesser than ever offer, just so I could be out of this mess. The mess many before him tried to comment on and walked out when they realised I'll choose the puddle over them. For once, I won't, and I don't want to, but he's compelling me to be selfish enough and cut myself out. 

Someone recently told me (three drinks down, in full conviction), never write anything when you're angry. Always sleep on it and even if you wake up angry, don't write it down. Never put any anger on record. By that logic. years of documentation here should be hidden, archived and eliminated. 

In a way, I have cut myself out from my anger. I've cut the bleeding organ and kept no parts of it as memory. My effort, resilience, anger all washed away and all I am left with is grief, vacuum, and the courage to make peace with it. It comes with nothing but god it's an exciting space to be brave and bold and idiotic. I can't write anymore, I don't read anymore, I don't have a single valuable insight but I'm fucking free. I can be myself, wholly cringe and unacceptable, basic as hell and fat as fuck. 

Someone asked me today it doesn't sound like I'm excited about him. It's untrue. He's the only thing I've been excited about in the past year. I know it doesn't sound remotely cheerful, but it's kept me going in whatever twisted fucking way one can think about. While I was narrating all about his lashing out last night, I hadn't thought that we are both sick of each other. Only, he's doing the honours of laying it out to me and I'm writing an angry journal here. 

Sorry ma'am, I can't do any better.



Share This Story

Tags: , , , , ,

You Might Also Like

0 comments

Hos in Different Area Codes

Subscribe

Stalker Count

frontpage tracking
Mac Upgrades