Trolling For Tinfoil
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Angst-y Post (part 2 of a series of ..?)
I had a friend once who had a pet boa kept in a glass cage.
All day long, the snake would constantly poke at the glass walls with his snout, relentlessly looking over and over again for a hole, a crack he could slide through- anything. The glass was there right in front of him, but it didn’t matter if he’d just been over it a hundred times- his short term memory wasn’t developed enough that he could remember where he’d just checked. He was convinced in his own reptilian manner that there was an exit somewhere, since he’d been let out of his cage to be held or fed, and this what probably reinforced his incessant search.

This seems to be how my brain works.
Nothing new is really going to make me feel better. I am obsessing, but this is something I’ve always done, turning things over and over in my head, although this changes nothing on a factual level. I think it’s my brain’s way of trying to find a way out of the pain/discomfort. It’s relentlessly seeking relief.

With regard to my previous post- I was right.
Dead on.

Unfortunately, betrayal is nothing new in this relationship. I hate the fact that I was so naïve/stupid so many times over for so long.
I defined myself by what it was. I would draw the line in the sand, and it would subside for a while, but eventually things would deteriorate all over again.
We'd break up. Months of self-inflicted torture would ensue, slowly coming unraveled day by day. We would slowly work our way back towards getting back together again, hoping that it was over this time, but the pattern would repeat itself. She was pretty, funny, smart, sex was amazing, but she was so screwed up from her upbringing that I don’t think she’ll ever get it right.

I have some idea on who the current side affair is but it doesn’t matter. It changes nothing, even if it was the pope.
What she does, doesn’t do or who loves me, who doesn’t love me has no bearing on who I am.

I know this to be true, on an intellectual level.

The worst kind of denial is the kind where, in the face of overwhelming evidence and past behavior, one continues to hold to the illusion of choice. What can I say? Who else do I have to blame?

Just me.

AAAWWWWWWW! I am sorry. Big hugs sent your way.
Thanks.. It's my fault, really- I could've just walked away last time.

*smacks forehead*
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