I know I’ve written about this before, and I’m sure this post will not sound unlike the last, but I have a fairly poor long-term memory, so it’s like writing for the first time here in my world.

Everyone pretty much knows what I was doing those three years I spent with James (see yesterday’s post if you’ve never heard the name before here), and might I reiterate that it was three years.  Three years of being backstabbing, deceitful and shady (from “Rock Bottom” by Eminem if any of you actually thought those words sounded familiar in that sequence). Three years of torturing this poor, unsuspecting girl, Michelle, by trying to steal her boyfriend.  When I think about all of the times I talked to her (as someone else, of course–long story) and she told me how James was reformed, he was a good guy now, how smart a cookie she was…I just feel bad.  At the time (I was 20? 21?) I didn’t give a shit about this bitch.  She was in my way.  I went out of my way to send her signals that I was there so she could drop her cheating bastard and I could snatch him up.  Now I kind of wish it had worked, this way he could have cheated on me (see: his relationship with horse-face) and I could have gotten all that karma-y crap out of the way.  Is it enough that it just didn’t work out, and I didn’t win?  Does that change or reciprocate for what I did to her?

Instead, I’ve had pretty successful relationships.  As far as I know, I’ve only ever been the one to cheat in any of them (did I have no soul, or just no love?).  Dinner with the dork girl either doesn’t count, or counts twice because it was emotional adultery instead of physical (which I canceled out that night, by the way; I don’t like being deceived).  But see?  There, I couldn’t even let myself get hurt.  I had to one-up the move. So, really, it’s never come full-circle for me.  Do you think maybe some guys I’ve dated could please come out of the woodwork and tell me about all these horrible things they’ve done to me behind my back, so that I might potentially think that karma is done with me, and I’ve been successfully hurt enough? What if I didn’t get suspicious and do my own investigating? What if by being suspicious I created the situation? It’s all dynamic anyway; I’ll never be able to figure out the sequence of events there.  So technically, I’ve racked up a lot of bad ju-ju.  And nothing so earth-shattering has come ’round my way…

Is the asshole breakup enough?  I mean, that was what- 3 or 4 months long when you really think about it.

Is living life the way I do enough?  Constant analysis, knowing too much, feeling outcast…can bad relationship karma take the form of social awkwardness?

Is being broken up with by my father enough?  It certainly hurts about as much as losing the love of your life to a skank would, I imagine.

But what’s the point in worrying about it, right?  To be able to tell myself “I told you so!” later?  To feel less stupid for anticipating it?  To create an inadvertent self-fulfilling prophecy? It wouldn’t matter, ’cause I’m not worried about my immediate future.  I’m worried about my long-term future, and by the time anything of consequence rolls around, I’ll have forgotten I even used to blog as a hobby.

Right. Now that I’ve successfully managed to depress myself (especially now that I realize I can’t be one of those “life happens, do the best you can every day” people as much as it’s the right idea), I think I’ll go bury my face in a textbook.


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