The Truth Is It’s Not Me, It’s You

woman leaning on concrete pole posing for picture
Cody Black / Unsplash

The time for emotional outbursts are over because…what’s the point? The reason that children or adults throw tantrums is because they somehow believe that their words or their actions will elicit the response they desire, all the while getting out the frustration over the situation. It’s a natural reaction that we all get ensnared within at some point or another (some of us more than others). I know that I’ve given into the impulse on more than one occasion, usually under the influence of alcohol or – even worse – an influx of agonizing human emotion. The funny thing about a broken heart is that it’s all in our head (ironic). However, the pain is very real, and just like all hurt animals, we tend to lash out when we’re lost within it. All our mind can focus on is the pain that’s consuming us, letting it completely skew reality and making us perceive even the most gentle of helping hands as a threat.

It’s a terrible cycle, and not one that I’ll allow myself to fall victim to easily, especially so soon after my last battle with it all.

It’s just not worth it.

My words, my tears, and my actions didn’t make any difference in our situation, anyway, did they? No. Because in the end it would always be what you wanted and what was best for you. I was the collateral damage.

Stepping back, I’m forced to ask the hard questions:

Are you willing to let me be an active part of your life? No.

Are you willing to let other people know that we’re friends? No.

Are you willing to put aside your wants or needs in the event that I truly need you? No.

Are you anything more than talk? No.

Do you respect me? No.

Do I matter to you? No.

Am I more than just a convenience to you? No.

Will I ever be something important in your life? No.

I have picked myself apart down to the very bone to try and find out what exactly is wrong with me that I am not good enough to be in your life. It feels like when I’m to figure it out, I am slowly peeling my skin off slice by slice to try and figure out if my great flaws are because of who I am on the inside, or who I am on the outside. I have analyzed everything that I say and think. I have stared at myself in the mirror until tears streamed down my face, wondering which of my many physical flaws it must be that make you so embarrassed of me that no one can know that we speak like we do.

There is nothing left of me to search. I have looked under every rock, scraped out every crevice. Trust me, I have seen the darkest parts of myself and I know that I am far from perfect. But I could not – for the life of me – figure out why it is that I’m so damaged and flawed and disgusting and embarrassing that you can’t stomach the idea of actually being a real friend to me, God forbid anything more.

So the only conclusion that I can come to is:  It’s not me, it’s you.

Looking at your track record and all the women that you have found worthy of being a staple in your life, of being allowed out of the shadows and into the limelight, I can’t help but think that I’m right. It’s not me. It’s you.

So from now on, it will be me who does the ignoring. It will be me who doesn’t see you as a real person. It will be me who forgets about your existence until I’m bored or just need someone to help wound my broken ego. It will be me who uses you as a supplement to a relationship that doesn’t fulfill me. It will be me who treats you as if though you are scum and that it would kill me if people found out that we were actually associating.

Wait.

As I wrote that, I realized that if I do all that… then I become you. Gross. There’s no way that I could do that. There’s no way that I could treat someone the way that you’ve treated me. I can’t look at a person, interact with a person, talk to a person who I know I’m hurting and just continue to do it because it’s fun for me. I was cursed with compassion. I just can’t use someone who wants nothing but the best for me, and then treat them like trash because all they are is some supplementary, unnecessary tool for me to use and abuse at will.

So instead I’ll just forget that you exist. I’ll move on with my life and you can move on with yours. Lord knows that it won’t matter to you what I do or what decision I make, given that you don’t have any stake in my life at all. All these years and we literally mean nothing in one another’s lives. How pathetic is that?

I grew up this summer. I didn’t mean to and, trust me, it wasn’t the easiest experience to endure… but I suppose it was necessary. And now that I’m looking at the world and my life through different eyes, I have to say… I won’t ever understand why I gave up so much of my time and effort for you. You made all the wrong decisions and you made me think it was my fault. You made me believe that there was something wrong with me. You made me believe that I wasn’t worthy of you and your life.

Truth is… you’re not worthy of mine.

Truth is… It’s not me. It’s you. TC mark

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