It’s amazing to think that you could still care for someone who betrays you and hurts you no matter how long and how hard you work to recover after the event.

Like some involuntary Jesus-complex of forgiveness it makes you wonder whether it’s biological/chemical, social/psychological or even just a personal/moral trait you possess. Regardless, this phenomenon I can only liken to a much more self-detrimental and prolonged stockholm syndrome, sucks giant testicles, and not in a sexually gratifying way for the (I suppose) victim.

I think the only thing one could take away from this episode is that whilst I am not immune, the recovery time seems to have drastically decreased. So, WIN!

I know there is resentment and seething anger just below the surface and I know it’s because I feel as if I paid a price for her faults, her selfishness, and it was a heavy, heavy price. And she got off (literally) without paying anything, at least, nothing she really cared about. She lost me, but she has no idea what that means. And I feel the weight of that injustice because she’s already on to the next guy, breezed on to the next-one-day-victim most likely, but still all style, no substance.

And here I am, trying hard as always to build something out of passion and meaning, and moving so slowly, mocked and misunderstood by family who don’t know any better, feeling like I’m getting nowhere slowly, and by myself. I try to connect with people, I try to find some companionship, some affection, but it’s hard, I obviously suck at choosing viable candidates, and I still suffer from a fear of rejection I may or may not get over one day.

So all I can think to do is keep busy, take every small victory that I can get my hands on, and keep working towards change.

Let’s hope I succeed before I fail…