02 Oct Disenchantment
“Ain’t that comforting, you chose a meaningless fuck over me”
I cringe at the memory as I walk barefoot on my balcony–Taking in everything and nothing of the Skyline ahead of me.
I took in a generous breath of nicotine, relishing my surrender to its sweet poison. I really did think I’ve quit this ticket to Cancer for good when I got engaged to Len, but I guess when you’re having a heart constriction, the prospect of Cancer doesn’t seem all that frightening anymore.
I look at my Blackberry as it’s battery starts to decline, it hasn’t stopped vibrating in the last hour or so. Inwardly I wondered if I should switch to I-phone, Len doesn’t seem to have any problems with his since he’s still at it.
Four years and a few more months into our wedding and now this…
It wasn’t that I couldn’t forgive him for sleeping with another woman, it was that I couldn’t forgive myself for thinking he’d actually change.
I remembered the night he proposed to me–there was no ring, no orchestra playing on the background, just us in his car, waiting for the traffic to move.
“Maya, have you ever thought about marriage?”
“What do you mean?” I looked at him, my heart racing as everything else slows down around me.
“Well, it’s been four years, I don’t think it would be such a bad idea if we tied the knot.”
My eyes welled up with tears when he said that; I was going to get married to the man I love. For years I have asked myself if he was half as serious as I was about us, and now he’s telling me he wants to share his lifetime with me…
I snapped back from my thoughts, puffing-out another smoke as I tried to stop new tears from welling-up again. I should never have let myself runaway with my feelings, it made me see things that didn’t exist–like love in his eyes.
Our romance was an illusion, and tonight, the spell was broken.
I could forgive the cheating, what I could not, would not forgive, was the fact that I assumed I’d ever be enough for him. That I’d actually inspire a better man out of him.
I wasn’t that woman, was never going to be.
Maybe in a few years, months even, he’d meet her and feel all those things I did for him.
Why couldn’t that be me?
I feel myself tremble at the question, I choke as I took a long drag from my cigarette. Everything was getting blurry and it was getting more difficult to breath properly.
I allowed myself to drown in my self-inflicted torture for what seemed like hours. I allowed my thoughts to shatter and my heart to tear-up some more after that.
I cannot cling to this illusion anymore, not when it was disintegrating in front of me.
In a final desperate attempt, I punched in my Blackberry what would be my final message to him as his fiance,
“I forgive you. It’s over”