Sadness

God, I don't want to cry anymore. I'm sick of it. It's so pathetic and stupid. I feel like a pathetic sad loser. This is the stupid shit that *girls* do. He doesn't want me, fine. Great. Suck it up. Get over it. He's obviously going to do whatever he's going to do, because he isn't listening to me. He isn't listening to anyone but her. My guess would be that he won't sit down and talk to anyone at all about this anyhow. If he tried talking to anyone except me about it, he might get told that it's a bad idea, and then he'd have to deal with the idea that more people than me would advise him of that, and taking advice isn't his strong suit.

Maybe I'm just being bitter. Maybe I've earned the right to be bitter? Who knows. I don't understand anything anymore. Why the fuck anyone would deliberately go looking for something else when they're perfectly happy with what they had makes no sense to me.

I have never felt anything close to how he makes me feel. I have never felt as desired by anyone in my life. I don't know how he can look at me that way, can hold me that way...and then tell me he loves someone else. The emotional bond is there. The trust is there. The connection is there. We laugh. We talk. All of the things that would ordinarily make for good compatibility are there. There is no denying just how easily we fall into each other, and how well we fit together. You had trouble keeping your hands off of me...and then, suddenly, you love her? You can't handle this, and you ran to her. And now I'm lost. And I hurt. And I'm left behind.

You say you want to keep me close. You won't leave me behind. Things will stay the same. You don't want to lose me, that I'm too important to you to risk losing. That in the last few months I've become too important to risk losing. You were so worried about that.

And not even two days have passed, and you won't even talk to me. And here I sit, alone. Once again, alone. I tried to tell you that she wouldn't allow it, that she couldn't handle the idea of you being close to me. No one ever can. And I always get left behind.

I'm always the woman who is good enough to play games with for sex...but I'm never the woman who's worth loving enough to stay with. And I'm always the woman who gets left behind, because no one is willing to fight for me.

So I'll cry. And when the tears dry, I'll have my memories this time. And I'll love you, because I can't do anything else but that. And you'll either remember or forget, because that's up to you. Everything always was. And I don't believe anymore that you don't love me. I think you're afraid of it. And that's okay. I hurt you. I didn't deserve you. I don't deserve you. But I love you. I love you more than she can, or will. And I understand you in a way I don't think she can.

You tell me you've forgiven me for the past. They say that time heals everything, and if that's true, then someday maybe you'll look around, and realize that the past is gone, and the person I am now is worth your time. And there's nothing for you to fear. You didn't give me the same chance that you're so willing to give her, and she was and is disloyal and wronged you badly. And that seems unfair to me. I'm sorry that that seems harsh to you. You can look at me, and make love with me, and hold me, and wake with me. But you won't give me the same chance you'll give her. And that hurts. That alone is the one thing you've done that's injured me. You'd give her a chance you refuse to give me.

My tears will stop. The pain will ease. But I miss you. And I'm sorry that you're gone, because this isn't what I wanted. I didn't want you to go. Even if the 'escapades' ended, I didn't want to lose you.

R.I.P. Cassie...

Jezebel was a legend, once upon a time. And I mean that with the utmost respect imaginable, because I loved her, and she was my friend. And she's gone, now. I found out that she died, last Friday, although the details are unclear. The local paper has the obituary, which confirmed the memorial details, and there's someone checking for concrete details on what happened at the coroner's office, not that it really matters, because she's gone, and knowing how or why isn't going to give her back. And it isn't fair.

Because of my spotty memory, I can't always remember what I want to, which frustrates me sometimes. But I can remember clear as day when Cassie was sitting on the couch, long braid over her shoulder, laughing while she held Dana. She was just tickled when I brought the baby home from the hospital. Look at that, you're a mommy, was how she looked at it.

Jezebel and Jessamyn. Friends. And she's gone. And I'll miss her. I won't go to her memorial service, even though I'd like to, because I know that a fair amount of people who wouldn't appreciate my presence will turn out to show their respects for Cass. And because I know that she would rather that the memorial itself not even be held, I choose to honor what I already know would have been her wishes, and pass. The shell that was Cass isn't there. She was too private a person to have wanted a public memorial.

So rest in peace, Cassie, I miss you...