Crash...Crash...BURN
So eloquently put by my favorite band, 30 Seconds To Mars, and coincidentally, it's also exactly how I feel.
There's that moment when you're about to be in a huge car wreck when everything goes into slow motion. The impact comes, which sends you hurtling through the windshield, but in the moment you feel none of it, (I'm guessing the adrenaline and surrealism of the moment has something to do with that.) but a few hours later, as the shock fades, the pain rolls in and you're in the most agonizing pain you have ever felt in your life. That's how I feel now. The shock and surrealism of finding out about Grande's many, MANY exploits over the course of our relationship has worn off, only to leave excruciating pain in it's wake, like the slime on a snail trail. There aren't enough words in the English language, or any other language, to explain the magnitude of my pain right now. I feel as if half of me was ripped off and burned into ashes. How exactly do I put myself back together after that?
Oh, and the ANGER. It is boiling in me like a live volcano. The beating that I gave him didn't even come close to quenching the bloodlust. I want to see him feel physically what I feel emotionally. I want him to writhe in pain while I stand over him and laugh. And maybe spit on him a few times. Hopefully while there's thunder and a lightning storm behind me...you know, just for the effect.
The effd up part of all of this? I am dealing with a horrifying dichotomy: I HATE him with all the passion in the world. But. (grr) I can't shut off the love switch, and I hate the fact that I still feel that way. I want my hate to be pure, uninterrupted, diabolical, so when something bad does happen to him I can truly be glad about it instead of having these fucked up mixed emotions where I'm glad but secretly still feel a little sad for him. Old habits won't die; I find myself still wanting to reach out to him and make sure he's okay, and having to stop myself when I almost invite him to crash on my couch if he doesn't have a place to stay. Even worse? I'm the one comforting him when he starts crying about what he did to me and how bad he feels about it!! Seriously!! I try to cheer him up!! WTF am I doing?!?
All jokes aside, I'm like a walking wound. The mental pictures of him with them, and the memory of all the emails I read are permanently etched in my brain, and it dosn't just hurt, it burns. He stole everything from me, and my ability to trust is gone. I can never have a fair, balanced relationship again after this. My whole future, whether he was in it or not, is wiped out. How do I pick up the pieces he left behind?
There's that moment when you're about to be in a huge car wreck when everything goes into slow motion. The impact comes, which sends you hurtling through the windshield, but in the moment you feel none of it, (I'm guessing the adrenaline and surrealism of the moment has something to do with that.) but a few hours later, as the shock fades, the pain rolls in and you're in the most agonizing pain you have ever felt in your life. That's how I feel now. The shock and surrealism of finding out about Grande's many, MANY exploits over the course of our relationship has worn off, only to leave excruciating pain in it's wake, like the slime on a snail trail. There aren't enough words in the English language, or any other language, to explain the magnitude of my pain right now. I feel as if half of me was ripped off and burned into ashes. How exactly do I put myself back together after that?
Oh, and the ANGER. It is boiling in me like a live volcano. The beating that I gave him didn't even come close to quenching the bloodlust. I want to see him feel physically what I feel emotionally. I want him to writhe in pain while I stand over him and laugh. And maybe spit on him a few times. Hopefully while there's thunder and a lightning storm behind me...you know, just for the effect.
The effd up part of all of this? I am dealing with a horrifying dichotomy: I HATE him with all the passion in the world. But. (grr) I can't shut off the love switch, and I hate the fact that I still feel that way. I want my hate to be pure, uninterrupted, diabolical, so when something bad does happen to him I can truly be glad about it instead of having these fucked up mixed emotions where I'm glad but secretly still feel a little sad for him. Old habits won't die; I find myself still wanting to reach out to him and make sure he's okay, and having to stop myself when I almost invite him to crash on my couch if he doesn't have a place to stay. Even worse? I'm the one comforting him when he starts crying about what he did to me and how bad he feels about it!! Seriously!! I try to cheer him up!! WTF am I doing?!?
All jokes aside, I'm like a walking wound. The mental pictures of him with them, and the memory of all the emails I read are permanently etched in my brain, and it dosn't just hurt, it burns. He stole everything from me, and my ability to trust is gone. I can never have a fair, balanced relationship again after this. My whole future, whether he was in it or not, is wiped out. How do I pick up the pieces he left behind?
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