The Ex

Here's what's pissing me off.

I considered my last relationship another failed relationship. But in a way, I felt as though it was the greatest failure of all. Sure, unlike all the others I never loved her - hell, I didn't really care for her. She could have died and if she left me a fortune, at least I'd have the money, But here's the thing - feeling that way was WHY I consider if the greatest failure of all.

I despised myself after the breakup. Yes, I wanted the breakup as badly as she did - even more so. I couldn't stand to be around her. Was she a bad person? No. I didn't think so. Did she do something to hurt me? Not that I knew of. I just couldn't stand pretending. At night, when she'd come to bed, I'd be in one of my deepest downphases. She wouldn't take no for an answer, I had to satisfy her before she fell to sleep. The entire time, I just wanted to curl up and cry... I would see her out of duty of being a girlfriend. It was a qualification. It came with the package.

She told me she knew what bipolar disorder was. She told me she understood.

She told me a lie.

She didn't know the word 'downphase'. She didn't understand the extent of mania. She didn't realize that sometimes... sometimes I could just fly...

We started dating when I was coming up from a downphase. I think she was used to me becoming happier and happier. But then I fell. She told me she would be there to catch me. I was just stupid for believing her.

I could see it then... and I can see it now... her telling her friends that I'm just not there anymore. That now she has to get me in the mood to do any experimenting. How she shyly tells them she she's never been able to make me come... though that was mostly her fault. It doesn't matter how aroused I was, she was just god awful. She doesn't know that the one time I came at her hands, it was because I was fantasizing about someone else... someone who doesn't even exist. Someone with pale hair and blue eyes. A ghostly palour and the warmest most beautiful smile... a character I created in a book. The lover of my main character I stole my name from, Kiska. Her name is Fakir. In the book, Fakir grew up and changed... but in my fantasy, I focused on when she was still untouched by the icy cold understanding of fate and how it is inescapable. I came at the thought of her smile.

She broke up with me because I was never around. Well gee, I wonder why. I don't think it's unrealistic that I wanted to avoid her and how dirty she could make me feel. (I had told her multiple times that I wasn't in the mood... that I didn't like always necking and that I'd prefer talking. She'd reply that we had been talking for an hour already.) I broke up with her for the obvious reason as stated above. And because she was arrogant. And because she was racist.

I just didn't realize how large of a hypocrite she was.

Even in my upphase, I was worried. My Mother is a notorious cheater. When happy, I am a lustful person. I always desire touch. I was scared that since her blood ran through my veins, her actions did as well... I had told Ryssa this fear of betrayal and she laughed saying "As long as you're worried about it, it means you will try your hardest to not be like her." I never found anyone I would cheat on her with, but I made a conscious effort to think up scenarios in case I did. In the end, I would always resist. Perhaps sometimes I'd come close to giving in... but I'd be good. Part of this fear branched from my first ex who always told me I was a horrible person. Again, it's my fault for believing it.

But then I found out...

She told me today. Ryssa, I mean. She told me she kissed her roomate while we were dating. And it wasn't a platonic kiss as in the VKA, oh no, she really really liked this boy. I'm sure she dreamt about running away with him.

I laughed it off, a bit in shock. She told me she didn't know if I considered it cheating. I shook off the answer with "You always said you hated bisexuals. Now you're turning into everything you hate - tell me, are you French too?" All her racist comments about the French... they drove me insane. I doubt she had ever met a French person.

She laughed it off and finished the conversation. It took a while for it to hit me.

I hated myself ever since the breakup.

I blamed myself. Sure, I knew she was being a hormonal arse, but still I blamed myself. I felt as though there was something wrong with me, that it was my bipolar. That NO ONE could ever love me because I felt this way and in return, I could never love them. Never feel connected, always feel that that short coming was from MY end. These scars on my legs because I felt as though I was scum - she knows not internal solitude. All this time worried and beating myself up over what I held inside, what had not yet happened and she had already gone through with something I dreaded not even having the balls to tell me.

Not even having the balls to tell me THAT is what gets me!!! Lack of communication from my side? Bull shit! Bull FUCKING shit! I TOLD her when I wanted to kiss Veronica... if she said 'no', whether I would have done it or not in the end I would have told her the next time I saw her.

How stupid I feel.

No, I never liked Ryssa. No, I never cared for her. No, I would never date her again. But that doesn't stop me from feeling like a blundering idiot.

Surely it makes sense to feel this way? It's events like these that remind me that it's safer to just keep my distance.

What if next time, I really like a person? And I do all those things that I did with her?

What if in the end, the outcome is the same?

I feel as though some part of me that must be still alive would scream out its final agony. Scream it as if EVERYONE could hear it and when it realizes they can't, it will just scream some more...

My future has no room for a lover anyway, so I'm safe.

Music. Stick to music. We don't have room for a bloody lover.