One day

When asked to introduce myself:

         I consider myself your average Caucasian American male. I like to stay up late playing video games; especially those that are violent. I’m not violent myself—in fact, quite the opposite. I’m a pacifist who enjoys helping others rather than hurting them. But I guess lately my life has pulled myself in a direction that has shown me a new side to myself, and honestly watching the death of hundreds or thousands of little programs helps ease the pain; that, alongside of copious amounts of caffeine, sums up the past few weeks for me really.

         You see, I didn’t used to be like this. I used to be described as someone who picked others up. However, depression is one helluva drug. It can take the best of us and shove us down the shitter for others to try and find, and one day they’re going to realize that we’re unfindable. Either that or somehow we gather the balls to slowly climb up the pipelines of life. Both are equally plausible; however, in my situation, I find it much easier to remain complacent alongside the other scum of the earth.

         This isn’t to say that the people around me are the scum of the earth. Quite the opposite, in fact; they’re practically saints for putting up with this bullshit that I keep spewing. I consider the scum of the earth to be those demons that sit with me, and make me relive and revisit every inch and every second of my life that I regret.

Revisit what?

         A long story.

Breaking a heart is the absolute worse.

         To start off, I want to explain my side of the story. I wasn’t happy. I don’t even know if I was in love. I know you were, though. I know you were completely and utterly in love with me, and my unhappiness combined with that fact was shredding me apart every single fucking day that I woke up and saw the good morning text that I was wondering whether or not I should send, every day that I saw your face when I came to pick you up, every day that we went to the parking lot in the morning to hide from the outside world; it was a stabbing pang through my heart every second we spent doing this ritualistic routine.

         Then it finally happened. A girl who I considered the love of my life, someone who had pushed me through the previous pains of life that had almost made me end it all, decided she loved me too. A miraculous series events that, as I look back onto them, I realize were nowhere near miraculous. They were the result of a stupid and narcissistic form of myself that I developed to act as a callous to the outside world.

         I broke it off with you. Not for my sake, but for yours. I knew from that point on I was going to probably fall. That inexplicable feeling that the world was going to kick me down had started to dawn unto me; I remember it, it was right as fall neared its end.

         I fell further in love with this girl, who you hated with a burning passion for reasons aside from this, and then out of nowhere she told me she couldn’t do it right then, she had to wait. So I started waiting patiently.

         I watched the men walk in and out of her life with burning jealousy; they got what I wanted so dearly, what I almost had, with absolutely no effort. I never realized that they and I had so much in common; love simply was not something destined for us at that moment. It’s hard to fall into love. It’s even harder to fall out of it. The two lessons that I’ve come upon these past few months.

         I decided after the third man to have his way with this girl that she wasn’t for me, and a burden was suddenly lifted. Alas, to replace this burden was loneliness. The demon of loneliness is a clever and powerful one; it manipulates your every movement and thought to its will. It twists the truths and lies of the world to show you one where you don’t matter, and makes you believe every single twisted bit of it. Truly, the demon of loneliness proves that God hates us all, because to allow such a demon on this planet is to allow eternal hell and damnation upon this planet with it.

         It was this loneliness that manipulated me to use you, like all those men used my friend. I never meant for it. I’m so aptly against even the thought of using someone for quick pleasure – at heart, I’ve always been an ascetic; this pleasure would mean nothing to me. Regardless, you were all I craved. By you, I mean your body. I tried to resist you with every inch and fiber of my being, but regardless of this effort the demon and your love for me overthrew this resistance, and I quickly fell under your lure. I regret those moments the most in our short time of knowing each other – you should never have known what that felt like.

         Regardless it happened. Then, one day, She appeared. She exiled the demon, and thus broke me free of your lure. Much to your dismay. It was then that your hatred for me and Her began.

         She and I had so much in common. It was, much as me and the friends short experience was, written into the book of destiny. We quickly fell in love, and it was beautiful.

         However, you sat in the back of my mind. It’s cliché to say that you were a voice in my head, but you were. When your friend lied to you to get you to turn on me, I was crushed. You broke off it all right there; friendship, simple communication, everything was gone. I became dead to you.

         You were very alive to me, though. I don’t love you anymore; I don’t even know if I loved you at all. But after so long – a year – the feelings I felt weren’t necessarily a lie. I cared for you – a lot more than you care for me. I know you blame me for everything. I know you. You tell me you don’t blame me, you don’t hate me, you hate the relationship; deep down inside we both know the truth.

         One day, you’ll remember me. Maybe with spite, maybe with fondness. You’ll remember me though. And one day, I hope that you can forgive me. These past couple months I’ve been battling with depression because I’ve forgiven you and I realize that you were a good friend.

         Maybe one day it’ll happen.