Whenever I get dumped, or “my ass kicked to the curb”, as I like to call it, no matter what the "kicker", is saying to me, I am hearing one very loud and clear message: “There is something wrong with you. You are unworthy of love in any way, shape, or form. You will die alone and childless. You are of absolutely no value to anyone. No one will ever love you. But seriously, you’re really funny and smart and pretty.” Is that harsh?
I wonder if any of these dudes doing the dumping really think that? Probably not. I’m sure their feelings for me never go that deep or get the chance to become that hateful. However, that is what I hear. And man do I hear it loud. I feel it, like a kick in the gut. I see my whole worthless life pass before me, and remember every single time this has happened like it’s all happening, all over again, all at once. To me, there is no, “I just don’t feel a connection.” It is absolutely, without a doubt, “You are rotten to the core. Nobody wants you.” Period.
When I type that out loud, it sounds utterly ridiculous, as I often do, but that’s of little comfort when it’s what I feel. I like to think that I am the only person on the planet who has it this badly, because somehow I’m so fucking special, but that’s probably not true either. Probably, nothing I think is true really is true... I am the world’s worst Buddhist. How did I get here? How does someone live their whole life thinking this way? It’s terrifying. It scares the shit out of me.
This is not okay with me. I am not condoning this type of thinking. I am not okay with it. I really hope there’s a pill for it, and that it’s available in a generic, and that I can buy it online from Canada, because this totally sucks ass. Seriously, do not try this at home unless you’re looking for new, fun and exciting ways to perpetuate your own self-loathing. If you are, congratulations! You just hit the fucking jackpot by reading two paragraphs. Oh and, you’re welcome.
It makes me want to vomit, and not the good kind of puking where you feel better afterward. Just sick, and sicker, and sicker. I have no solution for this, other than to say, “Lisa, don’t think that way!” But that sounds an awful lot like trying to remember how much money is in my bank account, and to not eat an entire bag of Doritos, and I just have a really hard time remembering those kinds of things.
Life is work, and the pay is shit.
I wonder if any of these dudes doing the dumping really think that? Probably not. I’m sure their feelings for me never go that deep or get the chance to become that hateful. However, that is what I hear. And man do I hear it loud. I feel it, like a kick in the gut. I see my whole worthless life pass before me, and remember every single time this has happened like it’s all happening, all over again, all at once. To me, there is no, “I just don’t feel a connection.” It is absolutely, without a doubt, “You are rotten to the core. Nobody wants you.” Period.
When I type that out loud, it sounds utterly ridiculous, as I often do, but that’s of little comfort when it’s what I feel. I like to think that I am the only person on the planet who has it this badly, because somehow I’m so fucking special, but that’s probably not true either. Probably, nothing I think is true really is true... I am the world’s worst Buddhist. How did I get here? How does someone live their whole life thinking this way? It’s terrifying. It scares the shit out of me.
This is not okay with me. I am not condoning this type of thinking. I am not okay with it. I really hope there’s a pill for it, and that it’s available in a generic, and that I can buy it online from Canada, because this totally sucks ass. Seriously, do not try this at home unless you’re looking for new, fun and exciting ways to perpetuate your own self-loathing. If you are, congratulations! You just hit the fucking jackpot by reading two paragraphs. Oh and, you’re welcome.
It makes me want to vomit, and not the good kind of puking where you feel better afterward. Just sick, and sicker, and sicker. I have no solution for this, other than to say, “Lisa, don’t think that way!” But that sounds an awful lot like trying to remember how much money is in my bank account, and to not eat an entire bag of Doritos, and I just have a really hard time remembering those kinds of things.
Life is work, and the pay is shit.
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