pennylane731's Diaryland Diary

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who me, bitter? - by me

This came out of nowhere

The drama quickly unfolded

Barely a few hours after my great-aunt�s wake

You told me it was over:

No explanation; just a weak apology.

And you were gone.

Nothing I could do but lie around and cry, shock and disbelief choking me.

At the funeral, I wailed and I mourned.

Not as I should have, not for my great-aunt.

I mourned this relationship and you.

(I apologized to Aunt Frannie. Mom told me that Aunt Frannie would understand, and was watching over me.)

I packed a few overnights into a bag, and went back to mom and dad's.

Armed with chocolate and wine, my friends had a mission:

get me fat, get me drunk,

Get me through this hell.

Get me out of the old apartment.

Armed with boxes, bags, and my friends� Xterra,

We made our way to the apartment.

(our across-the-hall neighbor thinks you�re a fool, by the way)

I spent the day

Screaming at the walls that we shared;

my friends packing the things that I couldn�t bear to look at.

Crumpled as a paperbag on the kitchen floor,

I asked the questions I would never get answers to.

Don�t offer me fake friendship, I won�t accept it.

If you cared you wouldn�t have left, you would have seen it through.

Don�t ask me how my grandmother is,

don�t ask me what I�m doing this weekend.

Why do you call me, email me, with little updates on life.

I don�t care.

Why do you want to prove to me that you are okay.

Why should I want to think that you are?

I want you to be in pain.

I wish nothing but the worst for you, I�m not going to lie or sugarcoat it or say anything that is politically correct to say in the wake of a break up.

You are an asshole, and I want you to suffer.

If saying that awards me a one-way-ticket to hell in a handbasket, so be it.

I want you to be miserable and alone for the rest of your pathetic life, and I want you to live to be 112.

I want you think of me,what you did, and what you gave up.

Hopefully it will make you physically sick every day.

I want you to someday mourn and wail like I did.

If I am a lucky girl, I will hear someday that you are a miserable man, a drunken imbecile who never made anything of himself.

Vengence will then be mine.

I, on the other hand, will soar.

I will continue to dance in the light of music and beauty.

I will not be a tragic figure, a shell of who I once was;

who succumbed to a personal crisis.

I am coming into my own now.

I am growing, and learning more each day.

Loving myself, others, and being loved the way that I should;

The way you never could.

I won�t seek you out; but perhaps,

Someday our paths will cross.

A stolen glance, and you will not believe your eyes.

You will remember, and miss me with such an intense ache,

That your chest will burn inside.

And me?

I might look over, and think I know you from somewhere.

7:59 p.m. - 2001-12-20

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