Righting the Wrongs
Times always seem to me the font for a deep, revealing writing. More often than not, it reveals pain, hurt, suffering, agony, sadness, silent rage, and so on. So very little I use it on the opposite side.
It appears to me like a quiet, deceiving silence. Demanding attention with near to none effort.
Quite appropriate, in any case.
It's been 5 days since I requested silence from Amelia and Irene. Since then, I was given such.
There is comfort in that, however non-existent it feels, in their actions, or lack of it.
Perhaps it could be a respite for all of us, them in their activities, and me in my thoughts.
I dawdled and mucked about in the boundaries of my psyche.
Trying to reconcile the working gears to function with the changes.
I am still angry, and very much hurt over her mistake. She may have apologized for it -probably, subconsciously, I couldn't have known it myself- and I may have forgiven her, but it does not do to slap a band-aid on a broken mirror. I couldn't change that. Only she can.
I imagine the hurt and anger would not go away till the wrong has been righted.
Thus comes the epiphany.
I'd picked up my soothing book during my last, forced time at 'home', knowing it would do me a favor and right the wrongs in me, the ones I have control on. The Inquisitor by Mark Allen Smith.
It's a book on torture and understandings of pain in the subconscious. Perfect.
I loved it dearly the first time I finished it, and I do love it still.
I have been pulling away from her -emotionally, and physically- since last time we were in each other's presence. I assume that my body and mind is preparing to distance myself from her, to prepare the eventual emptiness in her place since the moment the mistake is made.
Maybe I took it as a betrayal.
Maybe I took it as a loss.
Maybe I took it as a lack of trust.
Maybe I took it as a breaking of one.
I am happy for her, that does not change.
She has someone to love her now, unconditionally and selflessly. I hope.
And her happiness being the only thing that matters does not change either. Till I die.
Only that, now, I am taking myself out of the picture.
I am not angry at her decision, no. I am not angry at the stranger, no.
The core of my hurt and anger, is that she, for once, had not trusted me to put her happiness as priority and left me behind on the decision of her life. Perhaps she thinks it would not affect me, this decision, but it does. And it hurts. So because she thought it that way, I worked to make it so.
That's why.
Contrary to popular belief, I am not stupid. The hurt and anger and pain had festered beyond the day of the wedding. How did you think I felt when she was talking to mom about the reception details in my presence as if I was invisible, yet never taking the time and place to properly give me the news?
The wedding day was just the clincher.
I can only right the wrongs in my head. The ones I made.
I cannot right her wrongs, to me, or otherwise.
The outer factors I could not control.
I realize I am actively, and swiftly, pulling myself away. From her, in specifics, and from my family, in general. I am not angry or hurt with mom or dad or other people, it's just that they are constantly demanding and expecting my cooperation regarding the matter of which I refuse to be involved in.
It feels like they're strapping me to a chair and force-feeding buckets of worms down my throat.
Imagine that.
Perhaps, I would not be as hateful to forced situations, 7 years ago, but as you would know, having your choice taken from you so violently tends to change that. Like it did so many things.
For 4 years I was given none. Hadn't known I had any.
And it has been 3 years since I was given one. Then knew I had them.
Choices.
I am not asking for the world to stop.
I am not asking for her to do anything she wouldn't want to.
I am not asking for parades to my name and medals around my neck.
I am only asking, for something I was denied and stolen one fateful night 7 years ago : choices.
It appears to me like a quiet, deceiving silence. Demanding attention with near to none effort.
Quite appropriate, in any case.
It's been 5 days since I requested silence from Amelia and Irene. Since then, I was given such.
There is comfort in that, however non-existent it feels, in their actions, or lack of it.
Perhaps it could be a respite for all of us, them in their activities, and me in my thoughts.
I dawdled and mucked about in the boundaries of my psyche.
Trying to reconcile the working gears to function with the changes.
I am still angry, and very much hurt over her mistake. She may have apologized for it -probably, subconsciously, I couldn't have known it myself- and I may have forgiven her, but it does not do to slap a band-aid on a broken mirror. I couldn't change that. Only she can.
I imagine the hurt and anger would not go away till the wrong has been righted.
Thus comes the epiphany.
I'd picked up my soothing book during my last, forced time at 'home', knowing it would do me a favor and right the wrongs in me, the ones I have control on. The Inquisitor by Mark Allen Smith.
It's a book on torture and understandings of pain in the subconscious. Perfect.
I loved it dearly the first time I finished it, and I do love it still.
I have been pulling away from her -emotionally, and physically- since last time we were in each other's presence. I assume that my body and mind is preparing to distance myself from her, to prepare the eventual emptiness in her place since the moment the mistake is made.
Maybe I took it as a betrayal.
Maybe I took it as a loss.
Maybe I took it as a lack of trust.
Maybe I took it as a breaking of one.
I am happy for her, that does not change.
She has someone to love her now, unconditionally and selflessly. I hope.
And her happiness being the only thing that matters does not change either. Till I die.
Only that, now, I am taking myself out of the picture.
I am not angry at her decision, no. I am not angry at the stranger, no.
The core of my hurt and anger, is that she, for once, had not trusted me to put her happiness as priority and left me behind on the decision of her life. Perhaps she thinks it would not affect me, this decision, but it does. And it hurts. So because she thought it that way, I worked to make it so.
That's why.
Contrary to popular belief, I am not stupid. The hurt and anger and pain had festered beyond the day of the wedding. How did you think I felt when she was talking to mom about the reception details in my presence as if I was invisible, yet never taking the time and place to properly give me the news?
The wedding day was just the clincher.
I can only right the wrongs in my head. The ones I made.
I cannot right her wrongs, to me, or otherwise.
The outer factors I could not control.
I realize I am actively, and swiftly, pulling myself away. From her, in specifics, and from my family, in general. I am not angry or hurt with mom or dad or other people, it's just that they are constantly demanding and expecting my cooperation regarding the matter of which I refuse to be involved in.
It feels like they're strapping me to a chair and force-feeding buckets of worms down my throat.
Imagine that.
Perhaps, I would not be as hateful to forced situations, 7 years ago, but as you would know, having your choice taken from you so violently tends to change that. Like it did so many things.
For 4 years I was given none. Hadn't known I had any.
And it has been 3 years since I was given one. Then knew I had them.
Choices.
I am not asking for the world to stop.
I am not asking for her to do anything she wouldn't want to.
I am not asking for parades to my name and medals around my neck.
I am only asking, for something I was denied and stolen one fateful night 7 years ago : choices.
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