The Beginning of the End
A Diary of her Lies, Misdemeanours and Horridness
October 31, 2004:
It’s now 7:26 pm and I have decided to begin this diary to relieve the pain that is within. Some of this pain is created on my own, but most of it is just a normal reaction of a man who is being betrayed by someone he truly loves. The worst thing in the world is to love someone, and not have that love returned. Today I have accomplished little for I have been too weak to control my mind’s meanderings, triggered by one misstep or one omission on her part. I am at odds as to why she consistently maintains her behaviour, when time and time again I have told her that is something I dislike. One little thing can lead to an opening of the deep wounds I have inside. This morning she said she would call me, but I had to call her first, otherwise she would have almost certainly forgotten. Easily she says that she was just about to call, a convenient little lie. How am I supposed to trust that she was alone at Wendy’s during her lunch break at work today? I would rather have been told the truth, that maybe she was with friends, I wouldn’t mind. But I know not, and her word is barely worth anything anymore. She has spent more time since September at work than she has with me. It is just a mathematical certainty: it is highly likely that she may be building relationships, beyond the scope of a simple friendship, with other men. I wish she could just understand the scope of my love for her, how I adore her, how I mean the best for her, how I will never hurt her again. Maybe perhaps she feels that finally she is on top of some game, that she feels my sense of malady, and that this makes her happy. I know I have hurt her, but I did not believe that her love then was real. Now I know that my love is real, I know not if she is who she was. I will stay the course for now, being ever vigilant, because while my reason tells me she is dangerous, my heart is only filled with love. What a tragic juxtaposition this is. My heart makes my eyes read the same emails and letters of hers hundreds of times over and over. My reason then beckons, why do I read the same emails and letters, why does she not send more, when you send her these always? I commit this entry into your care.
-PK
-AVT-