A very private soapbox.
If you choose to judge me as crazy, it’s because this man , Chris Wetherell - Liar, Manipulator, Coward, Selfish Bastard, and Cheater, has made me so.
You wanna know the truth?
If you choose to handle it. I can barely contain the explosion of epithets and scars, apologies and sorrow in my head and heart. We first met in Sept/October of last year. We started dating in October. In November or so I learned that he was *still* dating someone. By February, as learned today, he still hadn’t officially broken things off with her. It came around then, the official breakup with the other girl. She had been lied to about me. I had been lied to about her. We’ve somehow scrapped together some corpse of truth and the body of evidence is nothing short of horrifying.
I have recently discovered that I have been extraordinarly lied to and lied about. As well in turn, many parties that satelitted our social spheres were in kind lied about and to in efforts to cover tracks, evidence, and responsibility.
In addition to this, having been cheated on, in turn, and discovering *that* news while I was in Michigan dealing with my father’s stroke. Classy, right?
We broke up under the circumstances. More lies. More cover-ups. More deception. Small apologies and admissions were made that covered only half truths in efforts to save face or damage control. Am I responsible for the collateral damage because of mistruths and lies that *you* make? Not me. This is your shit. Don’t blame me because I happened to trip on your dead bodies.
At this point, I can’t find anything redeeming and worthy of investing any sort of attempt at positive emotional bandwidth in this person or in any interaction him. I’m furious. Exhausted. And wounded beyond measure. Add salt and kimchi juice into the sores with the fact that I was lied about, manipulated, and referred to as someone who had manufactured the entire relationship. That nothing had been real. That I was *crazy*. A *stalker.* And manipulative.
It was real. And yes, it was extraordinarily important to me, this person was the “Shmoo” of reference in multple entries of my archives. I was asked pointedly by him to be evasive regarding him and our relationship here on this site and in my social dealings. I was an accomplice in my own skull fuck, in this regard.
So against my better judgement, I swung by his house again. After all the drama that rolled itself around me over the last few months, the death of someone who had hurt me even more, all I wanted was 5 minutes to say my peace and be done. To believe that bridgebuilding was still possible. That in spite of emotional harm already done and past that there could be some sort of release and freedom from the anxiety and doubt, confusion and disparity that has tortured me for months. That good memories could wash over those awful ones.
That five minutes, after all that I’ve endured, was too much to have as charity from someone who had mishandled my emotions throughout our knowing each other. Someone who chose to run away and cover up with more lies, then ever concede truth, fault, and acountability except in the most sweeping and ghastly self-serving and weak-charactered manner.
What have I dealt with? Accusations against my personal and professional character. Lies about my sanity which have now become eerily truish in my overwhelming emotionality at dealing with the extraordinarily dramatic mechanations that I’ve been fooled into believing as truth out of generosity, sincerity, fraugtfully misguided and wasted affections. Etc. Etc.
Too ridiculous, ludicrous, and shitty to go into details of but I”ll say this, if I had indeed punched him and made contact between knuckle and nose tonight, as I so desperately wanted (against tantamount catholic guilt and my kinder nature), I’d have been vindicated and it would have been well deserved. So if I’m crazy, and you judge me so, then so be it. I am. Fine. But I wasn’t always like this and I know I’ll be my cheerful normal self again shortly.
A word to the wise. Gawd don’t like stupid. Not fond of pretty either. And liars can leave me the fuck alone. Because if I catch you on your shit, and you hurt me, I’m not afraid to lay out the truth to those who care. And yeah, I know you do. And you do. And you do too. You don’t care, but you come here to read me because maybe I have something entertaining today. The entertainment value on this post is low as it’s more of a pointed expungement of the negativity that’s been clouding my life over the last year. But you care. And you likely care too much. You care a little. You, you show that you care absolutely nothing at all. And now I, don’t care anymore either.
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