Saturday, December 31, 2016

Don't Tell My Rabbi, A Broken Disappointment, and Vera

Trigger/Content Warning (TW/CW): the following blog post contains mentions of potential self-harming. Reader discretion is advised.

Stock photo.
WOOOO!!!! THANK G-D THAT 2016 IS ALMOST OVER! Yeah, baby!

Yeah, it's over. Thank goodness.

Huh? What's wrong, Vera? Can't live on that Cleveland Cavaliers' championship high forever. 2017 is going to be awesome. I can feel the awesomeness already!

Yeah, okay.  I can't right now....

What's the matter?

I think I figured out what my problem is with relations with others.  And I have only myself to blame.

What do you mean?

Well, you know about the old adage about men using love for sex and women using sex for love?

Yeah?

I'm so broken that I can't distinguish the two.  I'm willing to do whatever it takes with whoever, that I can not do basic functioning without it.  I even broke promises because of how I felt. 

I'm disappointed at myself for opening myself up and let every this, that, and the other park their cars in my small lot.

Fuck, I don't even know why I'm sharing any of this with you, Dear Reader.  It's not like you care.

Maybe I do care, Vera.

Oh yeah? How?

You have gone through so much, and yet here you are, putting everything you have on the line every time.  I care because you are like me, Vera: you're human.  You deserve to be happy, and to settle for anything less than is an insult to you.

What if I can't make another person love me?  What if I can't have their heart?  Then what?

Then let them go.  Lick your wounds clean.  Keep putting one foot in front of another.  *chuckles* I had a feeling something was going on based on the quality of your posts lately. Please tell me you didn't do anything harmful to yourself.

I haven't. Yet.  I've been fighting the urge to slice since 11:00am this morning.  I have no fucking idea how I'm doing it, but I am.

Get that word "yet" out of your mouth, mixter.  You are not going to hurt yourself.  Because if you do, I'm coming to your place to smack some sense into you.

Okay. But first, you got to make sure I'm not on the bus or rapid, so you don't miss me.  And second, whatever you decide to do, don't tell my rabbi, mmmkay?

Haha, that's the spirit, kiddo.

Dude, what the fuck?  I'm going to be 36 in two weeks.  I'M NOT A GOT DAMN KID.

You may have a soul of an elder statesman, Vera, but you also have the heart of a young child.  That maybe why folks like me call you a "kid."

This feels like some sort of Ray Bradbury horror story; no matter what I do, I can't escape the teasing and bullying from a schoolyard, all in my head.

It's okay, Vera.  Look on the bright side; you are a testament to strength and love.  Your G-d doesn't want you home right now.  You are here to teach us all a lesson.  Never forget that.

I don't feel that way right now.  All I see is a bridge burner and a home wrecker.

Those times are dead and gone, Vera.  Let all of that go.  Breathe.  Don't let anyone use you the way they want to.  Speak from the heart, not the brain or whatever you non-binary folks call your own genitalia.  This is your time now.  Show the world what they're missing because they did you incorrectly.

Remember, Vera: you no longer mind them because they no longer matter to you.

*wipes tears from both eyes* Okay, Dear Reader.

I know you can't see me, and no, my name is not John Cena, but I send you a virtual hug and I hold you close, to at least wish you a happy 2017.  I love you, Vera.  All of us friends, fans, and followers do.

Thank you. *hugs* Happy new year to you, Dear Reader, and to all. I love you, too.

Oh, and one more thing to other Dear Readers; if you're going to drink tonight, get that designated driver's number on speed dial or get that rideshare app on your phone NOW.  Both Vera and I want to see you sick fucks back here tomorrow and the days after.

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