The following is an entry that I would have written two days after the date below. But my pain that had turned into happiness kept me from it.
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Do not read this if you don't want to hear a sad story. Do not read this if you can't follow all the way through without skipping lines. Do not read this if my life is not worth your time.
Thurday, November 13, 2003, Approx. 3 PM
I understand that most men in this world have a hard time expressing themselves. I know that most people (be it male or female) would rather keep their sadness withdrawn, locked away and stuffed into some plexi-glass bottle that they think and hope will never break open. And these people, hypocrites in their hearts, go out into the world hiding beneath their masks, plexi-glass bottles hanging at their sides like some sort of Ronin ready to battle with all the horrors of humanity.
I suppose that I am a Ronin. And by this, I mean that I box so many things up in my mind, store everything away into hidden files, encrypted in my databank so that no one could ever possibly gain access to them.
And today (November 13, 2003), the worst of me was discovered. Today, I hurt him and left him. I ran away from him. And like a fool, I expected him to run after me. But I understand, now, that he was much too hurt to gain the strength to chase me down. He was lost in his own woes and, at the moment, couldn't care less if I didn't love him or not. He blamed me for his loss and he blamed me for my own ignorance that, in truth, we shared together.
When I returned to look for him, I found the scarf I had let him use lying abandoned on the table. I had already been crying... And I thought that I could cry no more. But seeing my white scarf collecting dust in the autumn breeze isn't a very romantic little setting. Especially not one that would bring me comfort. In fact, it did the exact opposite of that. I sat down and began to sob, wondering the most idiotic of things.
Does he still love me? Does he not want me anymore? Does he hate me? Will he ever forgive me?
I told myself that it really was my fault that we were in this mess.. And I told myself that I shouldn't take my anger out on him. So I went looking for him. I found him hiding behind this car, his metal guitar lying on the ground and his hands propped up upon his knees. He had his black hood tugged tightly over his head. He looked like some emotional rock-king god. And when I met with him, he didn't even bother to look up at me. He knew who I was. And I'm pretty damn sure he didn't want to talk to me. "Chris..." He wanted me to go away... So I did. I went away 'again'. But with tears in my eyes. I couldn't believe him. I blamed him.
I asked myself, Why, god, isn't he chasing after me? When I run away crying, isn't he supposed to come comfort me? Why can't he just wrap me in his arms and tell me he loves me like he always does? Why, god? Tell me that! But god wasn't listening to me.. And if he was listening and actually answered my questions, then I suppose that I had chosen to ignore him. Drowned out his voice in my own sobs.
I know now that life isn't some dramatic soap opera. I know now that life isn't a play like Romeo and Juliet where the two lovers end up happily in each others arms, content even until death so long as they could be with one another. I know now that melodramatic antics will never get me anywhere unless I have the stomach to push behind them. And I realize, with all my heart, that this moment could define how much I love him and how much he meant to me.
So I stood up, whiped my eyes, dropped down by his side and wrapped my arms around his neck. I cried onto him and begged him to forgive me. I told him I was sorry. I told him I felt horrible. And he sat there speechless, eyes drawn to the ground, staring at the black pavement between his shoes as if he didn't hear me... "Please, Chris. Oh god, I'm sorry." Bitter-sweet love pouring down my cheeks. My heart ripped open, begging to be mended with his forgiveness. And if not forgiveness, then at least some form of acknowledgement that he knew I existed.
He lifted his head. My heart lept. Say something to me, love, my heart yelled and screamed. But the most that my lips ever did was quiver. "Am I such an asshole..?" He said. "Am I such an asshole that I'd come after school every day just to see you? Is it so wrong that I go out of my way every weekend to call you on the PAYPHONE? Do you ever see me hitting you? I've turned down other girls for you, I stay for hours just to speak with you. I mean, god. What an asshole, right? I'm such an asshole." He was yelling at me. Not loudly, but indirectly. Inside, he was hurting. And he was taking out all the hurt on me. He would blame me, tell me that I didn't appreciate him or ask me if I loved him or not. And not even God himself could ever feel how torn I felt inside.
I never cried more hard for anyone in my whole life. Why am I such a bad person? Why am I doing this to him? Why do I hurt everyone that I love? Why am I so selfish and greedy? FUCKING ANSWER ME, GOD!! ANSWER ME!!! ...
But once again, my answer never came... I don't turn to God. I never do. But I often blame him for never being there for me. I often blame him for my pain and sorrow. Because even in my sleep, he hurts me. Even in my dreams, I realize just how horrible reality is. Because even in my subconscious little world, everyone ignores me and batters me down. Even cuddled up, hiding beneath my blanket, the painful memories of everyone that I love shunning me and shrugging me from their thought comes to haunt me. Why is it, God, that you hate me? Why do you take everyone that I love away from me? What have I ever done to you? I'd do this myself, then. I didn't need some false image of a lord to help me through. Faith in myself would guide me through the valley of death.
"Please, Chris... I'm so sorry. I love you so much, I don't want to lose you.." My words were shaky and my eyes were swollen and red, my lips chapped from the biting wind that swept in to mar and flaw them. "Please don't be angry with me anymore. You're not an asshole, it's my fault, I'm sorry--Oh god." My forgiveness came. God didn't help me. I did it myself. Forget you, almighty lord. I'm never turning to you again. Chris wrapped me in his arms and told me that it wasn't my fault... He told me that he wanted everything to be like it was before. He wanted me to smile. He wrapped me up in his jacket and held his arms around me, squeezing me to him and letting me cry into his chest. He asked me over and over why I was still crying. Why am I crying? I even asked myself. "I don't know why.." I whispered to him. But I did know.
He didn't come after me. As much as I wanted him to, he didn't chase me and tell me that everything would be okay. As much as I would have liked it to be, life really isn't a soap opera and there aren't always happy endings. So I blamed him inside, just like I blamed god, for ignoring me and tossing me aside, for caring only for himself even when I needed him the most.
But the important thing was that he thought everything would be alright. The important thing was that he thought that I wasn't sad anymore... But that night, I wrote him a letter. And even while I wrote the letter I cried my eyes out. Even as I touched my pen to the surface of that blank page, my tears were soaked in an ocean of sorrow. And I blamed him. This letter expressed every bit of anger inside of me. It asked him why he didn't come for me. It asked him why he ignored me even while I cried into his arms and begged his forgiveness. Do you hate me? Is this really love? Will I never be able to come to you with my problems? I can't trust you anymore. And it's true. I couldn't trust him anymore. Sadness had overwhelmed me and I was blinded by my own pride and anger to consider his feelings. My heart was burning in my chest and a lump had formed in my throat, making it sore, as if I had been choking. I felt, honestly, as if I hated him..
He read the letter the next day. He read it. And then he crumpled it in his own hands and tossed it to the ground. Four pages full of anger and madness, now torn apart and resting in a muddy grave. He walked off with Sean to 'discuss' their problems and I sat at the table, surrounding myself with people that I never really spoke to but 'pretended' to like. And among them was Craig.
I used to have a crush on Craig. Far greater than Chris. And I suppose that Christopher was right in thinking that if I felt vulnerable, someone would be able to take advantage of me. I wanted so bad for Craig to look over at me and ask me what was wrong. I wanted him to acknowledge my sorrow because I was goddamn sure that Chris hadn't even noticed it. And Craig did. "What's wrong?" I shook my head... So he played it off like everything was fine. Struck up a conversation. And like an idiot, I ignored him. This was the one of the two people that I thought could comfort me in my time of need, and I wouldn't even listen to him. When I left, he said goodbye. I was too proud to look back at him.
I passed Chris on the way to my mother's van... But even then, I was too ashamed to glance towards him. (I later found out that he held his head down as I passed by as well). I got home really late. Christopher called and apologized. We had a long talk.. Discussed everything. Told each other how we felt. Said sorry one million times over. And god.. I never felt so much relief in my life. I was glad that everything was solved. Glad that we could both be happy again.
Things turned out fine when we saw each other the next weekday. And I'm so goddamned thankful. He means the world to me.. Where I was once hanging by a thread, I am now standing upon a boulder, my support labeled "Christopher Jagodzinski". I love you, my fiancé. We will be together forever.
"Hm.. I guess God doesn't love everyone."
Emmy's Entry - A very raw examination on how God is an asshole for abandoning his own creation.
ManicMonday's Entry - Analyzing the truth between believing in god and relying on yourself.
A memorable response by anansay
oh my... I feel your pain, I truly do. I'm sitting here with my own tears on my face. Two things jump out at me. one: the pain in your story and two: your remarkable ability to MAKE me feel it.
Whenever I read your posts, I get the distinct feeling of wisdom. Hidden, insightful wisdom. You have this ability to really 'see' the world and then the even stronger ability to portray that sight in words that allow the reader to see and feel it.
I'm glad you and Chris were able to work through this. When you love someone so much, their pain becomes your pain, even if you're the one who caused it. I don't know all the details, I don't NEED to know all the details, I'm just glad that you've found happiness again.