“you and me” (in parallel universes)

I read once about this philosopher from the 1800s named William James, and he came up with this theory about “the multiverse”.  Basically, in the multiverse, there’s a set of multiple universes comprising just about everything that can possibly exist at the same time.

So…the entirety of space, time, matter and energy is all happening at once in different timelines.  Parallel universes.  Sorta like the final season of LOST.

Get it?

Ok! So, let’s pretend the multiverse is real.

Well then, maybe somewhere in those infinite universes is one, or several, where you love me.  Maybe I’m not just your friend.  Maybe we hold hands when we walk out in public.  And maybe, we still say “I love you” before we hang up the phone.

Maybe in one of these universes, we’ve been married for 10 years.  We have a daughter, she’s 5.  And a son who’s 2.  Maybe I cook dinner for you every night.  I pick up your dry cleaning.  You wear a suit, and you go to work.  We send people Christmas cards that have our pictures on them.  We smile.  We introduce one another to people as “my husband” and “my wife”…we go to bed together every night, in our house.  The one I decorated.  I think it’s too traditional.  You are upset with me because you think that it’s too contemporary.  But as I look over at you, laying there, looking at me, we share a small peck on the lips and “good night.” Maybe that’s us.

Or maybe, in another universe, we have a torrid love affair.  You spend the night in my bed almost every night.  We spend entire days together, entire nights, our fingers are intertwined, our legs are tangled up, and there is no space between us when we lay beside each other.  We are so consumed by one another that it’s like a thirst that can’t be quenched, a fire that can’t be quelled.  We live with and in each other.  Endlessly.  And no one knows us.   At least not the real us.  We don’t know how we survive.  No one does.  All that matters is you and me, together. Maybe that’s us, too.

Maybe in another universe, I’m living in Japan.  I’m a corporate attorney for the Lexus division of the Toyota Motor Corp.  Maybe I wear a skirt suit every day, and stilettos.  Maybe my hair dries straight, and I’m skinny.  I speak Japanese fluently and I see you twice a year when I visit “home.”  Maybe you live in Los Angeles.  Maybe you aimlessly date.  You haven’t found the “one”.  You’re discontent.  Maybe I am, too.  But I don’t admit it.  Maybe I call you when I get off the bullet train.  Or maybe I sit on my pallet bed and we Skype, as I hold a cup of green tea in my hands.  We laugh.  We never flirt.  We’re friends.  We encourage each other.  Listen to frustrations.  Give advice.  You visit me.  You try to convince me to move back home.  I laugh it off knowing I’d never be happy in LA.  You miss having me as a friend in the same city.  But I know it would never make a difference where I was.  We’d still be the same. Hey, maybe that’s really us.

Or…maybe in another universe, we’re 25.  We take a vacation to Europe.  We pose for pictures on the beach.  I’m in a neon bathing suit, you’re wearing swim trunks.  We’re so tan.  There’s sand–glistening like gold–on my shoulders and my hair is dripping wet.  We kiss as you hold up the camera to capture it.  Our friends think we’re great together.  But we realize we’re better apart.  And maybe we break up, maybe we stay friends, and maybe we attend one another’s weddings.  Or maybe we just pretend we are acquaintances.  And that’s ok.  Because we aren’t co-dependent.  We don’t talk every day.  We don’t ever admit that we miss each other. Sure, we remember the past…but we don’t live in it.  And maybe that’s cool, cuz it’s healthy.  Maybe, that could be us.

Or maybe, I’m 37.  And we make a mistake.  One crazy, random, strange hookup and I find myself having your baby.   You’re shocked.  We’re confused.  We don’t know what to do.  But still, you manage to be there…in that room, as I scream in pain.  Bittersweet.  ‘Cuz I had to do this.  I mean, maybe I’ll never have another chance to be a “Mom”.  And though you don’t want to be my husband, maybe you’ll be her Dad, anyway.  You bring a teddy bear, a giant one.  There are flowers.  Impeccable flower arrangements.  You hold my hand. You kiss my forehead.  I cry.   I’ve always wanted her.  But not like this.  And there you are.  With me.  But we’re not together.  Is that us?


Maybe I’m 19 and you’re 20.  You love me.  You do nice things for me.  You send me care packages at school.  You fly out to see me.  We kiss.  We cuddle.  We go to fancy dinners.  You buy me gifts.  I am undecided about you.  You’re too nice.  And frankly, I’m not sure if you’re the type of guy I want to spend the rest of my life with.  I begin to resent you.   You’re too sweet.  You’re too good to me.  And, I’m just not used to it.  I begin to think I really don’t deserve you.  It’s so sad.  I know.  I break up with you.  You never really recover.  Although I can’t do better than you, I’m relieved to be single, to be on the search for someone else.  Someone who’ll roughen me up a little.  And maybe he and I won’t have as many things in common; maybe he won’t know my heart like you do. Maybe he and I will never talk like you and I did.  But maybe that’s what I need.  And so I break your heart.  Maybe that’s me (and you).

Or maybe we’re 70.  And we have five grandchildren.  We sit on our swing and have tea in the mornings.  I enjoy gardening.  You read newspapers and invest in the stock market.  We wear walking shoes and go to farmers’ markets.  We’ve had a happy life.  We never run out of things to say to each other.  You’re my best friend and I’m yours.  I put my head on your shoulder as we watch the sunset together.  Though you hold my wrinkled hand, it’s still beautiful to you because you’ve held it for 50 years.  And there’s nothing more that we could ever want.  The thought that one of us could ever live in this universe without the other is unimaginable. That’s us.

Maybe in another universe, you really loved me the way I wished you would.  Just not in this one.


©2012, Leegal Deeva.  All rights reserved.


it happened. it was inevitable. i’m in a mental, “i dont give a sh*t” kind of place.  a tear just plopped down on my white shirt and all i can think is will my mascara stain it? i dont want to do anything today.  it’s possible that it’s monday and that’s the reason why. but i just can’t help but feel that i am the same on the other days…there’s just no excuse for it then.

perhaps it’s the rain.  it makes me feel so melancholy.  i love being inside during the rain. i nearly wished for it when i was sweating my butt of these past couple of days. wishing i was a skinny girl who could wear paper-thin sundresses, be tan (year-round without the risk of wrinkles, or worse–skin cancer), not worry about cellulite and jiggly arm fat.
why can’t someone love me for who i am? to look at me and think, i’m the ideal girl for him. cultured, intelligent, bright…beautiful.
i am all those things.  yet even at my best…in single digit sized jeans, perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect skin…”he” (whoever the “he” of the moment was) still didn’t want me. they’ve broken me.  to be rejected by people who never even had your heart or emotion? how would that make you feel? how would that work toward making u want to keep trying?
and that’s just it. i’ve stopped trying.  boys…i’d rather live without them. diet? a bowl of mac ‘n cheese (not that i’ve had mac ‘n cheese lately…but any comfort food will suffice) is always better than going out, feeling fat, getting rejected. catching a few episodes of a brainless tv show is easier than the routine of getting ready for the gym, sweating my butt off, showering, blowdrying, doing endless laundry…running out of socks and underwear b/c of my life-consuming gym habit.
friends suggest vacations. ok, i’ll go. but when i come back, reality always envelopes me with it’s mundane, unexcited, dead weight.
but what is it that really digs at me? i think it’s the boys.  the ones who didn’t want me. ok, they did…they wanted my information, knowledge, affection, interest, company, humor, advice…but they didn’t want “me”.  i wanted to give them all of it…and my heart, and my devotion, and respect, and love–forever.  but they handed it back to me.  the way you hand back something that’s too expensive and impractical…something that you’ve studied on the internet and read consumer reviews about but never actually consider buying.
instead, they go for the run of the mill.  the type they said they’d never enjoy. the blonde. the ditz. the smoker. the girl with wrinkles (no offense to anyone that has wrinkles). the one who speaks one language, and can’t spell.  the one who puts herself first. is selfish toward you. takes what you give without reciprocating. the one who absorbs all your love and affection but leaves you broken-hearted several years later, claiming: “i love you but i’m not IN love with you.” … “i love you but i love “him” more…” “i love you but i want to go ‘find myself'”
why her?
why not me? why can’t it be me? when i’m the one that’s IN love with you. when i’m the one who will always love YOU more (even than myself).  when i’m the one who wants to to create “me” around the concept of you and give you everything i have.
it’s not that i’m not enough.  it’s just that i’m too much. and i can’t forgive myself for always wanting to be “less” so that i can have “more.”

©2012, Leegal Deeva.  All rights reserved.

Unevenly Interwoven

14 years later and I still have a “my entire body is going numb and I can’t think straight for the life of me” reaction to seeing you with another girl.  Not that she’s the one…your one.  But it hurts.  It hurts like a bruise hurts when you touch it again.  Radiating pain.  Not like the fresh sting of an initial blow.  But a dull pain you try to curse away as it takes over your entire body…from your head, to your fingertips, all the way to your weak knees and electric toes.

It’s sad, isn’t it? When the one you want doesn’t want you.

How do you reconcile the feelings? The longing.  The moments of pure rationalization when you’re on top of the world, knowing your life is about to take off and you’ll be happy… someday…soon.  But waiting for that happiness can become your lifestyle.  Just waiting for it all to start, to get better, to take off, to have meaning, to give you the sparkle in your eye and the bounce in your step you know you crave, desire…you know you deserve.

And that’s where I am.  Where I have been.  Sure, I have had moments of happiness.  Ok, minutes, hours, days, weeks, and a couple months at a time.  But they were fleeting.  Never final.  Never lasting.  And the questions start…they taunt me.  My poor little, overwhelmed brain, the one that can’t let me sleep, can’t allow me to focus…bubbling over with thoughts like…”Do I expect too much?”…”Are other people just satisfied by simple things?” …”Should I be more like them?”…”Am I too picky?”…”Do I want or expect to much?”…”Are my dreams and desires unrealistic?”

I can’t help it.  There’s the “put yourself out there”…stop waiting, start living concept that I try to embrace.  But it means nothing.  It means nothing when all I want is a pillow to put my head on.  A hand to hold.  A body to lay next to.  A little girl whose hair I can brush, who I can sing to, play with, and teach.  Someone who I can spend my days with…and consider my greatest accomplishment.

Our history is interwoven in knots and snags and uneven bumps and lumps that are rough and awkward to the touch.  Yet looking back on it, it appears painless.  Whole.  Perfect.  Certainly the opposite of what my instinctive reactions were as I lived it.  What about our future? Will it be yet another uneven weave?  Will it be painful? Will it be beautiful? Will it be a masterpiece worthy of exposing to the world?

guy friends

Guy friends are cool.  They offer a different perspective.  They keep it real.  They give you raw, real advice that your girlfriends might otherwise sugarcoat, overanalyze, or fail to be sincere about. Bottom line, guy friends are good friends to have…
They tell you what a guy is thinking (more often, NOT thinking).  They explain game plans.  They break it down for you into bite-size pieces.  They strip our perspective on fresh love and relationships of the idealism and self-serving twist we put on it.  THIS IS ULTRA-VALUABLE.  If they think highly of you, they tell you not to worry and that the awesomest guy will never make you doubt him.  If they’re into you, they’ll talk you out of being with him, with hopes that you’ll fall for them.
But every so often, I fall into a danger zone with my male buds.  This danger zone manifests when they feel so ultra-comfortable with you, so real, so genuine, that they talk to you as though you were another dude.  It’s danger zone b/c this comfort allows them to express things, that as a girl…you may not want to know.  Correction, you shouldn’t know.
Example…they tell you about a guy’s “rotation”.  How he dates numerous girls, and when it’s your turn, you get the call, you get the text, you get the chill-session.  They tell you about their own infidelities…my least fave.  They make it seem so common, so casual, so natural, that you wonder whether Mr. Awesome will even be immune to this.  They take our most romantic pursuits, our most cherished desires to feel secure, nurtured, loved and they transform it into an animalistic desire, on the part of men, and they leave us thinking that men only want “one thing”…
It’s annoying.
They tell you how little guys care about feelings or reputation.  They tell you how low they can be, how they can go after your friends, how they can disappoint you, how they can forget about you…and how they can never multi-task which makes it easy for them to just “act” like they don’t care (cuz they often DON’T or can’t).
But every so often, they show you parts of their emotional nature, a little piece of their feminine side.  This is where it all gets confusing.  This is where I look at my guy friends and think: “Awww…what a sweetheart…”  This is where they become like a girlfriend and make me doubt all the dumb, emotionless ways they paint other men.  This is where they give you a glimpse into their psyche…their truest emotions.  This is where we fall and think, wow, they have feelings.  Wow, they care.  Wow, they notice.  Wow, they are just like usss.
Is this good? I dunno.  Is it realistic?  I dunno.  Is this who they really are? I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know…
Maybe they are more complicated than they admit? Maybe they do have feelings and they do care…they do wonder and worry and plan and scheme and over-analyze.  Or maybe…I’m just being a girl and hoping they do.

i never thought you could break my heart

I never thought you would break my heart. You were the sweetest, the funniest, the most sincere….

You made loving you—easy. No one had ever been so noble. No one had ever been so self assured. The only ones that had words so perfectly tailored, were the players. [The ones good girls, like me, didn’t bother with.]

Then, you came along. Out of “nowhere”…but it felt “perfect”…just as my prayer requests had specified. And so, you started with the boyish charms, the raw statements…you recognized and valued the very things I wanted to be known for. It all fell into place. My head told me, “Go!” and my heart had no room to object.

Speculation, imagination, dreams…the true manifestation, in the flesh, of the very thing my sad, tipsy, sappy mind had called out in that brief email, penned out on a BlackBerry, in dead winter, in the middle of a crowded San Francisco club—the very night I’d met you.

What did I want? A boy…to cuddle with, to have sushi dates with, to fall asleep on the phone with, to be appreciated by, to admire, to have a consistent, solid connection to.

You sailed in. Effortlessly, almost on queue. You weren’t an ill-fated demi-god like the @$$holes before you. You were “wonderful”…And boy…did I fight it.

“Words, words, words…” I told myself. Mere words. Were you a flirt? Were you messing with me? Why couldn’t I trust this perfect feeling? What was making me feel so adamantly “no bueno” about every beautiful word that you muttered?

Was I effed up?


By bozo’s who didn’t appreciate me?


Was I making the biggest mistake of my life by not giving you the chance to sweep me off my feet?


And you never let me forget it.

I gave up the control I desperately maintained over my thoughts (it’s really all I had) and my heart lit up and took control. Euphoria. “Meant to be…” Dream come true.

Which is why, from that moment on, my intuition, my heart, my mind, my body, my soul…never doubted you. Not for a minute. Not even for a second.

I could never hurt you…precious one. I would never let you down…dearest one. You lit up my heart. You made it easy to love you. And true love…

unlike all other things that pass…

true love…

it never dies.

gotta let it do what it do

How often have you heard the story about boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl likes guy back, guy leaves girl, girl cries and suffers and pines, girl gets over him, guy wants her back?
More than 5-6 years ago, I remember asking an older, way more experienced guy-friend about this. He said, “Look at it this way, a girl gets dumped, what does she do…? She goes to her friends, cries, complains, gets mad…she stays at home on Saturday nights, refuses dates, eats a sh*t-ton of ice cream, watches sad movies, listens to sad love songs, writes about it, cries about it some more, and sooner or later, she’s cried all her tears and she’s out in the world, she has a new hairstyle, she’s back at the gym, and she’s ready to meet someone new…”
I said, “Uh huh, ok…so?”
He said, “And what does a guy do?”
I had no idea.
He went on, “He goes out with his buddies, they drink, they toast to single-dom, they toast to freedom, he meets new girls, he messes around, he enjoys his free time, he takes weekend trips, meets more girls, drinks some more, parties some more…”
I nodded…”ok?” All the while, I was thinking, “Lucky bastard.”
He interrupted my thoughts, “By the time his ex is moving on, he feels that there’s a void, conscious or not he realizes he never properly mourned his lost relationship, he realizes he didn’t give it to the attention it deserved, he realizes he’s made a mistake and he sends her an ambiguous text message…makes an effort to re-connect…”
I said, “Uh huh?”
“And so starts the cycle…he left her, she had no choice but to get over him, he didn’t even try, he didn’t even care, and finally, finally…he recognizes he let a good thing go and he’s scrambling to get it back…”
Eh, it makes a bit of sense. But I’m still not convinced.
[Sidenote: That guy broke his girl’s heart, let the cycle run as it should, he always said “Gotta let it do what it do”…and now they are happily married with three beautiful little girls…]
Gotta let it do what it do.
Then, my girlfriend, as innocent and mildly experienced as I am, came about and filled me in on a diagram her older brother expressed to her. She said, “So it starts like this…”
BOY —–> —–> GIRL [Boy chasing/pursuing girl]
“You reciprocate the feeling and you’re here…”
BOY —–> <—– GIRL [Girl falls]
“Suddenly, you find yourself…”
BOY <—– <—– <—– GIRL [Girl overcompensates…Boy is running the other way]
“So,” she continued, the goal is to turn it all around to when he was chasing you…”
And so, I reflected on this. I wrote about it. Amazingly, although I’d seen it work in past relationships, it’s always hard to apply it to a current fling, or a recent experience. You’re often left feeling so deflated, insecure, disappointed, and let down that you buy the negative “self talk” and you actually fail to recognize your value (unless of course you’re a floozy, a wh*re, an immature drama queen, or a useless dumb girl…in that case, I’m pretty sure you’re not reading this…!).

There are lyrics galore about a lost love returning and the singer saying they don’t want them anymore…and I always wonder, how does it feel to be wanted again by someone who hurt you? In my experience, I generally “knew better”…the second, sometimes third (or fourth), in one memorable experience, the 10,000th time around. Bottom line, by the end of a cyclical, god-awful relationship, I knew it was bad for me to fall that last time and I held back, but had I given in before?

Peaches and Herb sang it best with “Reunited”…:
Reunited and it feels so good
Reunited ’cause we understood
There’s one perfect fit
And, sugar, this one is it
We both are so excited
‘Cause we’re reunited, hey, hey…
Cher and Peter Cetera told us:
After all the stops and starts
We keep coming back to these two hearts
Two angels who’ve been rescued from the fall
And after all that we’ve been through
It all comes down to me and you
I guess it’s meant to be
Forever you and me
After all
My most favorite song on the topic, Elvis came back and let us know that we were always on his mind:


Maybe I didn’t love you quite as good as I should have,
Maybe I didn’t hold you quite as often as I could have,
Little things I should have said and done,
I just never took the time.



Maybe I didn’t hold you all those lonely, lonely times,
And I guess I never told you, I’m so happy that you’re mine,
If I made you feel second best,
I’m sorry, I was blind.



Tell me, tell me that your sweet love hasn’t died,
Give me, give me one more chance to keep you satisfied,
If I made you feel second best,
I’m sorry, I was blind.



You were always on my mind,
You were always on my mind.


Everyone’s favorite, a classic: “I will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor:
At first I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
Without you by my side
But then I spent so many nights
Thinking how you did me wrong
And I grew strong
And I learned how to get along
And so you’re back
From outer space
I just walked in to find you here
With that sad look upon your face
I should have changed that stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I’ve have known for just one second
You’d be back to bother me
One I re-discovered yesterday, “Karma” by Alicia Keyes:
Weren’t you the one who said that you don’t want me anymore?
And how you need your space and give the keys back to your door?
And how I cried and tried and tried to make you stay with me
And still you said your love was gone and that I had to leave…
Now you’re Talking bout a family
Now you’re saying I complete your dreams
Now you’re sayin I’m your everything
You’re confusing me
What you saying to me, don’t play wit me, don’t play wit me!
And the one that feels super-close to my heart:
Phil Collins’ “Separate Lives”:
Well you have no right to ask me how I feel
You have no right to speak to me so kind
Some day I might (I might) find myself looking in your eyes
But for now, we’ll go on living separate lives
Yes for now, we’ll go on living separate lives
Separate lives
Countless times, I’ve stood by Bob Seger who so simply said:
We’ve got tonight, who needs tomorrow?
We’ve got tonight babe
Why don’ you stay?
And I’ve definitely taken the Juice Newton route, referring to myself as the “Angel of the Morning”:
There’ll be no strings to bind your hands
Not if my love can’t bind your heart
And there’s no need to take a stand
For it was I who chose to start
There’s no need to take me home
I’m old enough to face the dawn
Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby
Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Then slowly turn away from me
Maybe the sun’s light will be dim
And it won’t matter anyhow
If morning’s echo says we’ve sinned
Well, it was what I wanted, now
And if we’re the victims of the night
I won’t be blinded by the light
After experiencing every one of these feelings, I still stand by what I felt and knew when I was 20. TRUE LOVE NEVER DIES. Regardless of what happens, who walks away, if fate will turn it all around and lead you back to the arms of the one who pushed you away, so be it. It will. There is nothing you can do, say, think, express, feel that will make it happen or NOT happen. TRrrRRrrrrrust me.
Aaliyah said she’s never comin’ back:
I gave you all of my love, all to you
and you don’t appriciate the things that i do (things that i do)
I gave you all of my time cause you blew my mind
I let you do me wrong cause your love had me so blind ( i was blind)
But we may never know what she decided.
Does love really blind us? Nah. It makes us a little cross-eyed. We reflect but we don’t absorb. We ignore the things that make us feel uncomfortable. Then they explode in our faces and we can’t help but take notice.
Lookin’ at my BFF Carrie, who suffered 6 long years with Mr. Big, took a 4 year hiatus from us all (where we assume they were happily living toward a long-term union), then allowed us to watch that grueling year of torturous heartache that he put her through AGAIN, I learned lots of lessons. I was so over Big through that movie. Completely over him. He did it to her AGAIN. When people show you who they are…”believe them”…(remember that?). But he did it to her again. She put up with it, again. And then what? The beautiful wedding at the MET became a wedding at the downtown Courthouse (the way she wanted it to begin with)…and soon enough, we’ll see what’s happened to them. Yet again. Has he become a good guy? Is he finally a stand up guy who’s not gonna leave her? I hope so!! She deserves it. Once and for all…but even she, years ago, when they were talking about reincarnation…expressed:
Mr. Big: What would you come back as?
Carrie: Someone who knows better.
Ahh, did she? Has she? Not as far as I’m concerned. Have I? Am I? Rationally, yes. Life-experience wise, yes. Emotionally, no. Why? B/c love doesn’t change. Feelings don’t die, they just transform. Good or bad. I hope that my dying breaths express the same sentiments as I feel now…TRUE LOVE NEVER DIES. TRUE FAITH NEVER FADES. And so…just like Carrie and Big, we gotta stay tuned. They’re shooting movie #2. I’ll keep you posted on mine.

damaged goods

who isn’t? i’m damaged. certainly. nicks, bruises, bumps, dents…

i secretly love going to IKEA and visiting the ‘as is’ department.  what a joy.  i love examining things and seeing what a savings one can enjoy, just b/c a dresser is missing a handle, or a table is nicked, or a lamp isn’t stable on its base.  funny.  i kinda like it.
my mom on the other hand, has to buy an item, from the back, in a box, a box that’s not dented, damaged, bumped…anything.
but i like to take things “as is”…
after all, life comes to us “as is”
we don’t get to pick our families.  we don’t get to pick the people we work with.  we don’t get to choose our circumstances OR lifestyle for at least the first 14-18 years of our lives.  we don’t get to choose our looks.  we don’t get to choose our eye color (unless you believe in colored contacts, which i don’t).  we don’t get to choose our teachers…not til we get to college at least.  we don’t get to choose our IQ.  we don’t get to choose our talents…and most of our abilities are innate.  our personalities are tailored in the womb.  and yet, we have such high demands of others…
people say: “oh so and so has so much baggage”
people break-up: “she had too much baggage”
ok…how is it possible, to live out your life to an age past 25 years old and NOT have baggage?  everyone carries around some random, lame, dumb, scary, life-changing, traumatic, defining experience from when they were 1, or 5, or 12, or 16, or 21…right?
some of us carry around a random, lame, dumb, scary, life-changing, life-stretching, traumatic, defining, “how will i ever recover from something so huge” experience from when we were 1, 5, 12, 16, AND 21.  does that mean we have too much baggage?  no, it really just  means we LIVED.
ok, some things are tough to accept…kids, former spouses, rehab recoveries, crazy families…BUT THEN AGAIN, they are so common, how can we avoid ’em??? you can’t.
you have to take everyone “as is.”  it’s like buying a watermelon, is there a guarantee that it will be sweet? juicy? taste good at all? NEVERRR…
it’s a gamble.  so are people.  but in life, in relationships…you come “as is”.  you can fake it, for a while. never forever.  but you always come “as is.”
so when someone i love tells me they’re damaged, all i can think is “i know, and that’s why you’re beautiful…to me.”  like flaws, vulnerabilities…maybe if i was hand-picking, i’d opt out.  but this isn’t a brand new car…and let’s admit, it’s not till we get that first scratch on a new car, that we can actually relaxxx…and enjoy it.
to me, the true definition of “love” is “come as you are…”
next time you start doubting yourself…remember that i love you.  i love your quirks.  i love your circumstances.  i love your past.  i love your experiences.  i love your flaws. by love, i don’ t mean i enjoy it or i take pleasure in it. i mean, i love them b/c they are a part of you.  i accept them.  i embrace them.  i cherish them.  they are all the true contributors to you being the complicated, sensitive person…you are.  and i love you.

love my life.


I’ve always referred to him as “the love of my life”..easily, casually, commonly, comfortably. He had no name, but “the love of my life.” People would stop and say, “Gosh, I don’t even know who the love of *my* life is…” And in my elitist way, I’d feel a sense of self-assuredness knowing I’d identified *mine* and I could rest easy for no one else would compare. Good or bad.
BUT the honest truth is I’ve hated him everyday for the past nine years. Even our moments of elation were consistently woven with HATE. How is it possible to love someone you hate? (Even just a little.)
WELL–We’ve all heard of of “love-hate” relationships. It can be a relationship with a sibling, a parent, a boss, a romantic partner…”love-hate” relationships span every possible relation. A “love-hate” relationship occurs when people have completely lost the intimacy within a relationship, yet retain some sort of passion or commitment toward one another.
Passion, yes.
Commitment, never.
It was an evolution toward an obligatory friendship…where grudges from the past never quite disappeared. Yet in some unique way, it added depth to my character, it added dimension to my life, it expanded my capacity to feel…it stretched my soul, dug deep into my mind, and gave my heart the ability to LOVE another…
BUT, I’ve seen what “love” is now…at least what it is supposed to be. Love is pure. Love is so pure that nothing can taint it. It’s a care that goes beyond reason…beyond human understanding. It’s that level of unconditional affection/expression/emotion that you can *only* *only* *only* give someone whom you are completely selfless with.

Who loves us selflessly? Parents. Pure selflessness…putting their own desires, benefit, preferences AFTER ours. At least they are supposed to. Interesting, eh?
I’m grateful. I can see what love can do to a person now. Love makes you feel what the other person feels. It makes you cry over what pains the other person. It makes you angry when they are hurt. It takes your own desires, your own preferences, your own comfort…and it places them on the back-burner. And love, makes you do this, without a second thought. Love makes you forget what it is you wanted and makes you aware of another person’s happiness and feelings as acutely as completely as you are of your own.
How jaded…
How crazy…
How lame…
…could I have possibly been to have thought that *he* was the love of my life. Far from! More like the burden on my soul. The black cloud of gloom over my life. The pain in my heart that kept me from ever being free and happy with anyone else. Which is why, once I cut him out and cut him off…my life became an open field, open to limitless love and joy and possibilities that he would obviously prefer to suffocate.
And new love, flooded in…
Ahh…the freedom to “live” without being smothered by someone’s selfish desires, demands, and control.
This new love, lasting or not, final or temporary, absolute or partial…no one knows, for this life gives us NO guarantees. Weddings are called off, engagement rings are returned, spouses cheat, spouses DIE…but whatever this love is, it has taught me how beautiful and pure it can be. The truest and most valuable lesson I could have possibly learned…
It’s nothing. But it’s love…
And now, when I am immersed in it, I feel like someone different. Somebody more like *myself*….


Somehow, it feels like it’s the absolute worst betrayal when it comes from someone you thought was a friend.

But the truth is…you’ve done all the hurting.  You’ve done all the reprimanding. You’ve done all the disappointing.  You dirty, dirty, scum bag.  Insensitivity is your middle name.  Had you not been so insensitive, would you cheat on your girlfriend as readily and as comfortably as you do?  Would you?  Anger runs so thick through my veins.  So much so that my entire essence is stripped of the desire to show you any kindness, care, or concern.
It’s done.  “Enough is enough….”
You think, as always, that somehow, we can salvage this.  That we’ll be “here” again.  With Ol’ Faithful.  Right?  You always do.  And it happens that way, doesn’t it?  Waves crash, tides run high, paths run different courses and some way, somehow…the round and round game we play leads our paths to cross yet again.
This time, it’s different.  This time, the disgust is real.  This time, it’s not pain.  This time, it’s utter betrayal, the kind that seeps deep into my being.  No questions asked.  As always, no answers provided.  But this, my friend, is the last time you’ll be breaking my heart….
The very last.
I’ve watched you…FOR YEARS…through eyes of love, through eyes of admiration, through eyes of respect…only to find that you are a despicable, no-good, ungrateful, pathetic little twerp.  With friends who *fail* to satisfy.  With a girlfriend who obviously falls short of what you innately desire.  With a career, as off-path and underwhelming as your wretched little heart.  You are sad.  Because as much as these words drip from my lips…as much as I wish I could lay them on you…thick and heavy…coat you with them…paint you with them…implant you with them…
I’ve lost the desire.
How cold-hearted have I been? How out of character?  How careless?  How short in terms of chatter?  How insentient in terms of concern?  How stoic in terms of expression?
…how veryyy OUT of character.  Huh?
Get used to it.  Your days of favor are over.
Your insensitivity sparks crudeness, vindictiveness, and HATE in my heart.  But alas, revenge is not mine.  Never can be.  You will learn your lesson in such a way, such a method, with such intensity and creativity…that even I will shudder to witness it. This, I know.
Someday, your days of desperation will peak.  Someday, someone will build you up to an explosion, then drop you like the piece of trash that you are.  And it won’t be undeserved as I can’t help but ask: What kind of twisted, heartless, selfish human being are you?  Acting like a saint…who do you try to fool?  Your politeness…it’s a sham.  You came to me, complained that you were lazy and being unproductive.  You played on my sympathies, telling me you were lonely…telling me you were depressed.  Why? So you could abuse my potential?

hatin’ on you

Hatin’ on you comes so easy. It’s as if you want me not to care. You tell me I should be a bitch to you like I’m a bitch to everyone else. Do you do this intentionally? You coward. You piece of crap. Bullying me…when no one else would even dare. You want me not to care. You want me to brush you off like the lint that you are. Lint.

Is it a defense mechanism? for you to tell me how I’m different. strange. weird. eccentric. huh? I am? How bout…”you’re special.” “one of a kind” “priceless”. I know I am. You know I am. But the only way you can put it into words is by putting me down?

Why don’t you share your struggles with someone else, huh? Cuz they don’t care? Or all they can offer is an “aww” and a frown? Is that what you want from me? It seems you do. I’ll try. It just doesn’t come easy to me to be so ruthless with you. It’s not like I’ve ever succeeded. But I can try. I know it’s what you deserve. And in life, we should all get what we deserve.

So, if I stripped you of my sweet sentiment and indescribable quality of affection and attention…would you be happier? Let’s face it. You cry when I tell you I’m walking away. But it’s best for me. Don’t you see that? Of course you do. But you always want what is best for you.

So why am I talking in circles? Telling myself things that I should have learned years ago. Why am I struggling with this? You’re a PRICK. You are the prick. Telling me the other guys who walk in and out of my life are pricks. When all the while you are El Pricko Grande. Hah! You wrote the book on Prickism. You are the creator of Prickery.

Hey Prickster! It’s still hard for me to say it but I really think you need to go and live your life with the bogus boys and bimbos of the world. The bogus boys you claim are your friends and the useless bimbos you fill up your time with. They are not quality. Do you see that?

I KNOW I’m the most valuable person in your life. You probably do too. But since your actions don’t display that, your knowledge is ineffective, uninfluential, and USELESS.

So, put that knowledge into action and prove to me that I am what I know I am to you. Otherwise, you’re going to lose me. And you’re gonna lose me fast.