"...the bitter pill I swallow is this love that's killing me..."
Last week, a person I do not know told me I was hot. I asked him when he last had his eyes checked.
Last week, the same person told me that I need to believe I am worth loving. I shrugged.
Last week, a different person told me I deserve better, I deserve a good partner who will treat me well, a partner who didn't constantly treat me with anger, derision, abuse. I laughed and told her I don't get to have that. I don't get to have kindness, compassion, and decency. I get to have neglect, boredom, blame, anger, recrimination, and misery...or I can be alone. The good ones? Elsewhere interested, always.
I have this deep well of love that is constantly being drained but never refilled. I have this aching need for comfort and kindness that is never met, leaving me feeling alone and empty. I would like to feel loved, accepted, cherished...but in reality all I feel is unacceptable and wrong.
I'd like just to be held close without feeling as if I am only being held so I will give a blowjob or have sex, and if I don't perform the sexual favors then I don't get to be held.
When even my words are useless because they cannot, will not, be heard, then I am useless...because my words are what define me, what make me, are my best and most powerful art and tool, and without them I am just a fat lump of flesh, a mass of excess protoplasm with nothing to offer except an example of what NOT to be.
Polyamorous. What a laugh. HE'S poly. HE can take a partner whenever he wants, without so much as letting me know or giving me the tiniest bit of respect and asking me first...but I cannot even so much as speak to another man (even if I have no sexual interest and am just having a conversation) without there being rage...sometimes days of it...and accusations that I'm trying to replace him. And when I point this out? More rage and assertions that he is NOT jealous, that I should go find another man and fuck him and see how NOT jealous he is.
As if I could, or wanted to.
Worthy of love, me? Hah!
It doesn't matter how much I say with my worthless words, doesn't matter what I do to show...he is convinced that I don't care and just want him gone, and the way he treats me and the kids and the cats and my friends the way he speaks and acts around everyone, as if we owe him something or are always secretly judging him or snickering at him...well...he's creating the very thing he has been accusing me of for years...not wanting to be around him.
God damn, but I'm tired of this morass of exhaustion and anger and accusation and hurt and blame and useless, pointless love...
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Followers
About Me
- Knight Angel
- The Leaden Plains, Inmost Secrets
- Most often, I am an ordinary woman living an ordinary life in an ordinary world, but sometimes...sometimes I am a blighted soul, benighted by doubt, self-recrimination, anger, bitterness, rage, resentment, and the darker human emotions. Then, I am the Knight Angel, and then I write hard, sharp, slicing words and leave them to be found by like-minded souls or the unwary. Caution: Here there be dragons, demons, and creatures of the worst sort.
The Rules
If you know or even think you know who The Knight Angel is, keep it to yourself.
If you think someone else will benefit from this place, show them the door. If you're thinking about telling someone about the Lament because you know they're mentioned here and want to stir the pot - don't. Don't be a dick.
Remember, this is a place for me to dump my worst thoughts and feelings. If you know me and want to discuss what you've read here, ask once. Respect my need not to talk about it. Respect my desire to separate myself from it. Respect my process.
No using my content to poke anyone else in the ego, or any other part of their emotional anatomy. No copying, no borrowing of content with my express permission.
If you don't like what I'm writing, quit reading. I am not going to filter or sugar-coat what I am feeling. This is my dumping ground. I don't need you to like me - I need a place to put these things so they don't fester in my mind.
Thought is NOT action. Thinking is NOT doing.
If you don't like me, remember...this is just ONE part of my being. I am human. I have dark, bleak thoughts and feelings. I can own them, can face them, can acknowledge that they don't define me. Can you do the same?
Failure to comply with these rules will result in the Lament becoming a private party, and quite probably a certain Knight Angel putting a big cosmic whammy on your ass. Fair warning - play nice or piss off.
If you think someone else will benefit from this place, show them the door. If you're thinking about telling someone about the Lament because you know they're mentioned here and want to stir the pot - don't. Don't be a dick.
Remember, this is a place for me to dump my worst thoughts and feelings. If you know me and want to discuss what you've read here, ask once. Respect my need not to talk about it. Respect my desire to separate myself from it. Respect my process.
No using my content to poke anyone else in the ego, or any other part of their emotional anatomy. No copying, no borrowing of content with my express permission.
If you don't like what I'm writing, quit reading. I am not going to filter or sugar-coat what I am feeling. This is my dumping ground. I don't need you to like me - I need a place to put these things so they don't fester in my mind.
Thought is NOT action. Thinking is NOT doing.
If you don't like me, remember...this is just ONE part of my being. I am human. I have dark, bleak thoughts and feelings. I can own them, can face them, can acknowledge that they don't define me. Can you do the same?
Failure to comply with these rules will result in the Lament becoming a private party, and quite probably a certain Knight Angel putting a big cosmic whammy on your ass. Fair warning - play nice or piss off.
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