…the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Well, hell. Tonight has not been a good one to say the least.
It’s the house guest’s birthday today. His 40th. A big birthday in anybody’s life, but in somebody that’s been blown hither and tither, it becomes an insurmountable issue. Add to that quite a few glasses of white wine, and an overheard conversation last night between me and C, and you have the start of a glorious battle.
And now, I’m awake, sitting at my pc at 3:42 am. He’s lying in bed, probably over thinking his life, wishing he could get out of this untenable situation. And I don’t blame him.
Sure, I deserve to be happy, same as everybody else. What I don’t deserve however, is happiness at the cost of somebody else’s unhappiness.
It has happened once again. I fucked up royally. Instead of holding to my promise and try to help this person that desperately needs it, I had to go off on a tangent with a new prospect. Because, apparently, I’m fickle that way. C’s beautiful words notwithstanding, about accepting my feet of clay and being willing to pick me up when I fall, I doubt that I’m worth such devotion. I can apparently not keep my attention on one person at a time. Looks like I’ve become a serial dater. Always dating, having the firsts, and when the going might get serious, I get going. Is this true? Am I that fickle person?
The way I feel now, I should really just give up this whole relationship thing, give up the hope of ever finding anybody to share my life with, and accept the fact that I’m just not worth all that much as a partner. As a friend, sure. An acquiantance, by all means. But as a life partner? Probably not so much. I’m too selfish. I’m too set in my ways. I’m too butch. I’m too independent. I’m just, all in all, too much of a damn bitch!
And my heart is breaking for JP. I wish I could undo all the bad he feels because of me. I wish there was something I could do to make him realise that I was never going to be the person he could spend a life with – because I’m not so sure I even want to spend a life with myself. For that matter, I can’t even imagine why C would want to spend any time with a person like me. A person that will step on somebody else to get what they want. A person that will do things behind another person’s back just for personal gratification.
At this point in time, I really hate myself. I don’t feel like a good person. I feel like a harlot. Like I should have a scarlet letter on my breast, proclaiming my failings to the world.
“Keep away world. This woman is just bad news for all she meets.”
Everything I touch turns into shit. No matter what it is, it just does not go where I want it to be. I’m scared to death of starting anything with anybody, because I don’t believe, deep down, that I deserve to be happy. The last time I was happy it was with another woman’s husband. How good can I be if I was happy then? I tried to do the right thing. I still try to live to a set of beliefs and a moral code. But really, when all is said and done, I’m just another fallen woman. I’m just as bad as the people you read about in the news. The ones that does not seem to care about what is right and what is wrong.
And no matter what I try to do right, I always, always do something to sabotage it. Heaping the glowing coals of deceit and treachery.
I’m feeling miserable. It’s been a while since I felt like this. And all this does is just re-iterate my suppositions regarding me and humans. The further away from them I stay, the better for both them and me. I’ve lost my inner peace, I’ve lost my peace of mind. I’ve lost confidence in my humanity, my beliefs, my values. In myself.
I might even have lost the little bit of hope I’ve been carrying around with me for a very long time.
All this because I tried to do the right thing by somebody.
I only hope I can be forgiven. I hope I can forgive myself for causing this.