Shattered

I don't need to write this. And I don't even want to.
I want to just forget everything. Just pick a random direction and keep on walking, and maybe wake up someplace else tomorrow, somewhere kinder and more sane.

But I'm writing it to remind myself. What a fool I've been. What an utter, utter fool.

*****
Perhaps the worst thing about reading her blog was seeing just how she looks out upon the world.
Or perhaps it was learning just how she sees herself - User. Manipulator. Callous fisherman. Mixing up the myriad men waiting in line for the final catch.

Or perhaps, and more likely - it was the stunning realisation that everything we shared; every memory, every laugh, every tear shed, every embrace, every moment of passion, every moment of sadness, every moment of pain, every crazy thing we did, hand in hand... every I love you...

... was it all just another lie? Like all the others?

*****
I pinned her down and tried to tell her two things which might change her life; she couldn't hear. Just wouldn't hear. Just refused to - in her sad pathetic little world, I was just trying to win, to get in the last say.

What last say can there be in response to a lack of truth? I wasn't talking for me. I was talking for you, you fool.

And then she cried, in fear, in rage. In silence. Gasping for breath.

And then I left.

*****
There are two things you should know.

The first is that you will never be alone. A girl with a pretty face and good body is a piece of meat that attracts male attention like flies to carrion.

You will never be alone. You need never fear being left on the shelf; you will always have your pick amongst men.

But you will never be able to keep the ones of any consequence, or significance, if you stay the way you are. Those that remain, that you manage to keep - will seek to take and not to give, will seek to hurt instead of help.

The second is that there are two paths you can walk down, from here.
The first is to stay as you are. Continue to prostitute yourself out to the God of money. Stagnate and let your dreams die one at a time, distracting yourself with your pathetic little games. And I pray your bubble will never burst and leave you unhappy, and that God will grant you good fortune and find you a good man to be your salvation and give you comfort.

The second is to chase down your dreams. Focus. Abandon things of no consequence. Cast aside pride. Humble yourself. Work. Endure suffering. And be all that you can - the building blocks are there. You have been granted gifts by God, who knows why. And one day when you are done, repay all the kindnesses that have been shown you, in grace and gratitude, when you have achieved all your dreams and earned your happiness.

*****
But after reading her I teared, as she cried her tears of rage, her face contorted into an ugly mask, hyperventilating and gasping for breath.

I teared in sadness and regret.
Regret at the realisation that perhaps I had been wrong about her all along.
In the realisation that my faith, my belief in her may have been misplaced all along, and that she will probably never choose the second path. Not because she is not able to, but because it is not in her nature to make that choice.

I see it now. It wasn't K that I put on a pedestal - it was you.

*****
I didn't see an irresistably sexy woman when I met you. I saw a girl. Just a girl. Decent looking, but just a girl.
I got to know you, and I thought I saw something special.

I didn't look on your house, and your family and see poverty and difference. I saw a home, and people. Just people.

I didn't look upon your friends and see common people with common moralities and common dreams. I saw people. Just people.

I don't begin to dare ask what you saw in return.
I don't want to know anymore.