Because I don’t know myself.
But… I’m trying, and that’s all I really can do.
You don’t know why I write in here and you don’t know how much of what’s in here is really me.
You don’t know that I write cocky, smartass, funny, fuck-around, shit in here to cover up the insecurities that corrupt my personality. You don’t know that I leave comments on other people’s sites that are equally as smartassish in the hopes that I’ll make them and the people that read them laugh and like me. You don’t know that I write in here to vent that which I normally wouldn’t express, and I do it in such a large forum because I am constantly seeking validation and this is the easiest way to get it.
You don’t know that I am wracked with the same bullshit that I see and hear in so many places, in so many other people. My insecurities about physical looks, intelligence, and wit, are not unique I am sure, but that doesn’t make them any less real and powerful to me.
You don’t know how real and powerful they are to me.
You don’t know how hard it is for me to face that I am always trying to do the right thing yet sometimes, or even often, fail. My impish-eyed dog stares at me while I type this, expectant of love in the form of playtime, or even a treat. You don’t know how hard it is to give her a treat and watch her drop it on the floor, still eyeing me expectantly, and for me to realize that she wants my time and my love more than a CrunchyChewyBone. You don’t know how much it hurts to realize that I don’t have it to give right now.
You don’t know how hard it is to always want to be the key difference in pressure situations, and how much it hurts when that difference is negative. A lot of situations in my life mean many things to many people but sometimes the outcome is negative and I didn’t have my all to give at the time. You don’t know how much that hurts.
You don’t know how much I judge, and usually resent, those that don’t see things the way I do. How much I wish I didn’t do it and try not to, yet tend to be aware of it only after I’ve hurt someone’s feelings or even pushed them away from me in a fit of self-righteousness and over-inflated ego.
You don’t know why I love those that I love and how much I love them.
You don’t know that Shithead can be a complete fuck-up, yet has been the most loyal and true friend that I’ve ever known and is a great father. You don’t know that I’ve pushed him away regardless of this.
You don’t know that, despite how much I love her now, I’ve resented The Mom for most of my life for being only a telephone and neat handwriting when I needed her while growing up. You don’t know how much I recoil from any attempt of hers at “mothering” and instead consider her my absolute bestest friend, and nothing more.
You don’t know that The Girl is a sweet, funny, compassionate, wonderful person. She still reads this though I prefer her not to, but that isn’t why I write these words. I write them because they are what I believe, and I believe that you don’t know a lot about her. He said-She said, is a game that I’ve never wanted to be part of, yet I understand that I have written mostly about the shit in our relationship and that anyone who reads anything about her (even if I asked them not to) may construct an unfair opinion.
That said, I’m not here to be fair, for life isn’t fucking fair and this is my own little spot on the web to do with what I choose. I choose to be as honest as I know how and it’s up to you to deal with that.
You don’t know that neither The Girl nor myself handled our relationship particularly well, and that if blame has to be assigned, it should be in exactly equal parts.
You don’t know that she is a person that rarely, if ever, believed that she is beautiful, inside and out, and you don’t know what it meant to me to cup her face in my hands, kiss her lips, tell her this, and have her truly believe it.
You don’t know how much it hurts to be unable to do that anymore.
You don’t know why we split up either. You don’t know how long I was with someone that I inherently knew I shouldn’t be with and how, towards the end, I was cowardly looking for an excuse to get out. You don’t know how guilty I feel about this.
You don’t know how good it feels to be facing my life on my terms.
You don’t know why I fell in love with MarriedGirl and how, despite the subversiveness and the fact that it could technically be referred to as an “affair,” nothing ever happened because we never physically met. You don’t know how intense things got, or why they ended. You don’t know how much I care for her now, and how guilty I feel for pulling away the way that I did.
You don’t know why I fell in love with Femme Australis, or why I impulsively blew my entire profit-sharing bonus on a plane ticket to see her. You don’t know the ways that we’ve connected, and you don’t know the ways that we’ve parted. You don’t know why I believe what I believe about us, and you don’t know why I doubt what I doubt about us. You don’t know how much she’s unwittingly taught me about myself throughout the course of the last 8 months, how much she’s gone through, and how much she is still going through. You don’t know how difficult it is for me to deal with any of this from 10,000 miles away.
You don’t know why I can love someone, anyone, so much, yet separate myself from them, for what I believe is for the better. You don’t know how bad I am at this and how I sometimes really fuck things up in my efforts to “do the right thing for all concerned.”
You don’t know how much it touches me when people, random strangers who read this drivel, reach out to me, and how much I push them away because of my own insecurities and judgmental nature.
You don’t know how much I appreciate certain things, and you don’t know how much I take certain things for granted.
You don’t know how often the smallest things bring me immense joy, and how often the smallest things bring me immense pain.
You don’t know how much I hate my life or how much I love it.
You don’t really know who I am.
You don’t really know any of this, because I don’t really know any of it myself.
I’m trying my best though, and that’s really all I can do.