This is written by the hand of a woman
who has gained far greater clarity than she’d ever hoped. I realize that it
wasn’t me he broke up with—but the version of me I chose to present
to him every day. He never knew me because I was a totally
different person around him, and one that she happened to dislike.
All of my relationships go sour when I
switch over like this. It’s when I starting expecting, which leads to getting
let down which leads to playing silent sulky games out of disappointment. I hate this
version of myself, but I can’t get her to go the fuck away. I call this the
hurricane. It swoops me up and I get dizzy and enthralled in its cyclone of
shit. Instead of communicating in a healthy and normal way, which I am capable
of doing, I resort to pouting and bitchiness. So, I become super Persian. No,
that’s not fair. It’s more truthful and fair to say that I become my mother.
I need this behavior to stop. The Taoist
mentality is vital here. Don’t analyze, just exercise patience. Things always
end up working out the way that they’re supposed to. Eh, fuck fatalism. Just BE
ME. But who the hell is that? I can only say that the game is over. Prepare to
disqualify.