Sometimes I just cannot believe how I put myself out there. Airing what my grandmother (the bootlegger, not the holy roller) would call your private drawers.
Whatever. It's my blog. Deal with it or go away.
I had written this post on another blog & took it down because I didn't think I was being fair to Tim. It's one thing to put myself up for readers' eyes, minds, thoughts, etc - but he didn't ask for this.
Yeah. So I pulled that post. Well, guess what. I could really give a damn what Tim thinks, feels, wants, deserves - Oh, wait. I do give a damn what he deserves. And here it is - just in time for his birthday.
I don't wish you ill. I don't even have the energy to hate you. I just want to do this one last thing in return for the one last thing you did. That nasty phone message you left? You know the "You dirty bitch, your family can have your sick ass. Hope you get better, bitch"? That one. Okay, well I have a last message for you: I say that I don't wish you ill, but I do wish you every motherfucking thing you ever gave me. Lies, abuse & bullshit excuses. I hope that you do truly fall in love with someone (because whatever the hell you & had had not a thing to do with love) and I hope that that special person takes your love and goes gangster on it. I hope she takes your love & tries to wring out the very blood of your soul. And I say try because maybe it won't work. You didn't succeed in doing it to me. But I hope she gives it one hell of a go.
Maybe you don't know what love is. Love is what I had for you. Love made me walk away from a good & comfortable life, my family, friends; my upbringing, my dreams & goals. Love made me come to you when you had nothing, were nothing & didn't even want to be anything. Love made me believe that if one person believes in another person, everything can be alright. I actually thought that just openly loving you, giving you my heart, my body, my strength and my joy could make you worth it all. I even believed that you loved me. You said it enough. You even cried what you called your "tears of joy." I guess you were pretty happy to have found a fool like me, right?
And you know what? Even though I'm in a full rage just thinking of you, I don't really have the right to be mad at you. You never did one singly ugly thing to me that I didn't allow you to. Not one damn thing. I let you call me the names. I let you spit in my face. I let you not allow me to talk to other people, not to leave the house without you, not to smile or speak to strangers. I fucking let you. And I don't even know how that happened. That's something I have to face.
Most of all, I regret that I stayed & stayed & stayed.You lied to me & I stayed. You cheated on me & I stayed. You cursed me & I stayed. One time you even held me down and raped me & I stayed. You hated me as much as I loved you & I stayed. When I did get the strength to leave, I always came back.
I will never forget when you left me alone one night in your town. There I was, in a dirty motel, with the crackheads and other debris just outside the door, alone. Alone because you took my keys and left. Because you had to go get drunk. Remember how that ended up being my fault? Because I had stressed you out with my "uppity, bougie ass?" Remember that? I was always making you feel bad because you could roll out the cars and houses and trips. Like I ever, ever mentioned one thing about my family or their life. I walked away from all that - for you. But, yeah, I was the reason you had to do the least man-like things to feel like a man. I guess that's what you feel being a man is.
And remember the time I made you feel bad because I got sick & you couldn't take me to a hospital? My fault again. Damnit, I was such a bitch, huh? But let's not forget that I didn't call my brother for help. You know, because I wouldn't want to make you feel bad...
That's another thing: it was always so demeaning to you for Joe to be wealthy - until it helped you out. You didn't mind traveling first class. You didn't mind him picking up the phone & just making good shit happen. You didn't mind the offers of those nice rides. Come to think of it, you didn't mind nothing that made you feel good... Has it ever occurred to you that none of that shit meant anything to me? Come on, you have two brain cells left. Think about it, I left that for you. Dumbass. (Me, not you.)
My family, my friends, they knew you better than I wanted to know you. And they know me. It doesn't surprise me now to hear them say that they knew. They knew about most of it. Let's just be real - if they had known about the rape and abuse, I'd have family probably in jail. And we don't roll like that. We're not from your world. We don't treat friends and family like gang buddies, but we don't play with our love either. My family would not have let you treat a friend ours the way you treated me. Your family? Well, I have no idea what the hell your species is even about.
My friends and family are the real deal. When I had a freaking nervous breakdown, it was my friend who sent a car for me. It was my friend who made sure someone got me on a plane. It was my friend who let me lay up in her home for weeks & weeks, just trying to hang on to the little piece of sanity & self-esteem you didn't chew up with your hatred. It was my friend who never said a negative word about your crazy ass. All because she loves me. Meanwhile, what was it you told me later about your family? Oh yeah, they hadn't noticed I was gone for over a week. Nice. Nice people, your family. By the way, you really do need to get on your knees sometime & thank Jesus (and my friend) for your life. It crossed her mind to call & tell my fam what was going on at that time. Crossed her mind until I begged her not to. See, I still loved you. Damn. Really?
What I have tried to understand lately is what did you really feel for me? As much as you said you loved me, you only tried to break me. That's not love. You didn't cherish & hold me, you tied me down & tried to strangle my being. Why? No, never mind. I don't want to hear anything else from you.
So, yeah. I spend a lot of time not thinking about you, but trying to think about who the hell I was for those few years. I guess love can be as poisonous as it can be life-giving. The "love" we had was labelled Death. The love I wanted & will have one day - that's going to be the real deal.
Like I said, I no longer care. Not about you, not about any of the hell I went through. It's done, over, squashed. I'm going to be okay. I survived you. My friends & family? They are still there. Never went away.
I think back now & do you know what I really regret the most? I regret that I chose you over everything. I regret that I was taught to do everything hard & deep: love, give, care, laugh, live. I regret it because you benefited from it all. I do have to thank you for one thing: I know now to listen and hope and watch with my heart. I know not to see what I want to see in someone, but to see what's there. Before you, that always worked out well for me.
And, to finish (and because I feel just a little petty-minded), I will say that everything about me that you tried to break down has just been made stronger. I'm going to be alright, Tim. As a matter of fact, sick as I am right now, as financially fucking ruined (thank you, Tim, thank you very much) as I am, and every other bad thing - I'm going to be alright. I'm George & Edie's daughter. They didn't raise me to give up to someone as worthless as you.
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