Don't you?Don't you?
Well, no. It isn't.
It is actually about someone else.
I know you and I knew him better.
I saw essences of familiarity.
But I was still the moth.
That's my butterfly's dark side.
The cocoon I'm still trying to shed.
Maybe I'm taking the wrong approach?
I think going back into that chrysalis state might be a better option.
So back to "him."
I remember feeling a vortex pulling me across the room toward him
It was exhilarating and wonderful, but I had just gotten out of another relationship and I wanted to take it easy. I couldn't shake the feeling though...it happened every time I saw him. I knew he felt it too. That look in his eyes said it all. The ring on his finger thankfully kept me at bay. Little did I know it was just a cheap silver ring from Tijuana one of his "clients" bought him on a drunken trip in between karaoke songs.
That story went something like this: "Well, we finished our work and she wanted a drink because it was Friday night. We got kind of drunk and ended up at a karaoke bar, she was pretty good and has a nice voice. We made out in the car, she gave me a blow job and then went home to pack - she is headed to Mexico tomorrow. I told her to pick me up a silver band for my ring finger."
The stories. I think I was somewhat addicted to them. There were always stories. I became the hard-boiled detective in his film noir life. Always trying to uncover the truth. There wasn't any to be found and that was one long, hard lesson I never fully learned.
Now I am telling you, I am a damn good listener, but I had to interject at that point so I asked, "Wasn't your girlfriend waiting for you at home - I mean, it was Friday night." I didn't know it then, but this question I asked would haunt me over the next eleven years. I lived those Friday nights like I was on lockdown in Chino. He answered without missing a beat. "Oh yeah, when I got home, Rebecca was in bed with the sheets up to her chin and wouldn't speak to me. She was sitting up with her back against the wall and quietly crying, but she has that Latin pride thing going on so she didn't want me to see the tears. She knew I had gone out with Sophia, she could smell it on me."
He finished the stories like these with a Cheshire smile. He always finished the stories this way. Even when I was the main character in the story as the girlfriend. Eventually, my tragic character would have to come upon the scene live. The sneaking around, the betrayals and the lies would converge and just happen right in front of my eyes. He was truly a master magician when it came down to it. I was eternally caught in a circle of destruction and then the rebuilding of his web.
I remember the first time he touched me. It was a gentle gesture where he just reached out and picked up my hand. We were filming a scene and he was moving me over into the frame. Everyone else watched and waited for his instruction, but he just stood there and continued talking with my hand in his. I wondered if he'd let it go, but I didn't want that because it felt otherworldly. I got embarrassed when people started raising eyebrows. The energy was undeniable. That's where it all started....Eleven Years Ago.
The Pretender got the best of me little by calculated little. Come here, go away. This is the truth, now it has changed. Don't you get it? You are beautiful and amazing, you are ugly and nothing but a piece of shit. The conductor of a master manipulator orchestra filled with instruments of pain.
I want to go there and scoop up what little innocence and good I had left for him to steal. Like a bandit, I would put it all in a black velvet bag and slink away into the night...back to the future where I could deliver it to me now.
I could have used that knowledge about three weeks ago. The Pretender reared his very ugly head disguised as a pathetic and sad man crying for sympathy. I'm amazed at my ability to get suckered by anyone seeming to need love and understanding. The sad human condition of loneliness gets me every time. When he reached out and told me of his loneliness, his sadness and despair....well, I bought it and felt a twinge of empathy. The great thing was that he wasn't as effective this time. This time, my heart had you (for the moment). He quickly saw that his typical warfare was not dropping bombs as it used to. I had a light in my eyes this time. I had you on my mind this time. Our demise would unfold - you and I - but I thank you for being with me in spirit that day. You helped me more than you will ever know.
The Pretender pulled out ALL the tricks that day. He cried and begged, he told me of love lost and sadness for our friendship and history and his tears soaked my shoulder as I looked blankly off into the distance. My eyes were fixed on the clock with anticipation of you finally coming over with a few ticks and tocks. The story goes that you never showed up, but that's okay because you did your work in my heart that morning. He morphed and wretched and grew the stories tall. He threw his body into mine and this time, my armor finally worked! All the years of chinks and bullet holes had been filled in by my mysterious, unrequited love for you. I know that's why you came into my path now and I thankyouson.
The house of cards and lies from this sniveling cad came crashing down last weekend. It was horrid and terrible. His girlfriend of the moment called me crying. My heart breaks for her because she is me from eleven years past. I remember the haunting sound in her voice and her sobs so well. I know that faraway echo of betrayal and denial like it is pulsing through my veins. She doesn't want to see what is in front of her eyes. To look at the smoke and see the painful reflection, well that takes the strength of a warrior. I stood tall and weathered the storm, but he still launched his missles and they landed here. They landed on you, on my family, on my voicemail, email and social networking hellfire.
He's good. He's mad. He's got poison pulsating so furiously through his syringes and into and out of his veins. This time it spilled all over my life and dripped down even to you. If you and I had not fallen apart, well I wished your arms were still there because I would have run right into them for protection. His gameplan was to destroy you too. Anything he can destroy around me is the goal. He wants me left alone in an empty field so I'm ready for the final blow. How I gravitated toward this devilchild all those years ago - wow, what a longlasting lesson to learn. He is so dense that he didn't realize you had already removed yourself so his attempts were lame.
I don't know what else is left now. He's done all he can and I still haven't replied. I will not join this dance anymore. The words on your arm don't fool me Pretender. The Fuerza Y Amor ink could be needled down to your bones, but you will never possess either one. You could never comprehend what either of them truly mean.
...to be continued.
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