The truth is, too, that I'm old school. Chivalry may be dead amongst the majority, but it doesn't mean I stop holding out for the minority. Even if it means I'm running on empty in circles and diagonals after a shadow that doesn't stop for me, I hold out anyway. Settling for second best didn't work out the first time; no reason why I should try again. No reason why I should cheat myself of what I deserve.
The truth is, also, I'm fucking egotistical. Yes, I am. I love myself better than you - always have, always will. I'm used to getting my way, my parents treat me like a princess, I'm spoiled to the core. I never did demand my boyfriends to treat me the way my parents do, but now? I have seen the light. I won't be a doormat anymore, putting myself in second place, putting you before me. ARE YOU SERIOUS? How can that ever happen? I won't apologise for who I am, for my idealism, for my tendency towards uncontrollable bouts of emotional outbursts, for the fact that I am, gasp, an actual fucking human being and am therefore unequipped to process matters involving the heart like a fucking robot. I am not a calculating person, I do not measure the worth of my friends in terms of their usefulness to me, I actually have actual, real, meaningful friends. If that's wrong, if I'm not an adequate human being because of that, then guess fucking what? I never want to be right. I never want to be adequate. And lastly, I won't be condescended to anymore. No more. Whoever makes me feel stupid, whoever talks down to me, can just fuck off, and preferably, die.
The truth is, I'm just looking out for myself. No more crying my eyes out, no more wasting myself, over misconceived notions of love. Love doesn't make you feel bad, and Romeo and Juliet have always struck me as utterly stupid anyway. And if I feel like I'd probably be engaged in a power struggle in a relationship, it's obviously time for me to call it quits. What's the point? I don't want to win anything, to prove anything. I don't want to waste my time on a person who can't accept me for who I am, for all my faults, who can't see past the protective bloated perception I have of myself and see me for who I really am. Then again, I don't get too personal anymore, and whatever side of me I choose to show you isn't even remotely the complete picture. He thinks I'm a nice person, he thinks I'm immature, he thinks I'm spiteful. If only he read this blog, if only he knew, if only he could've treated me better. Ha, ha, ha.
The truth is, no one really knows me, not even the person who claimed to. I am flighty, I am grounded, I am frivolous, I am serious. I am conservative, I am liberal. I don't swear out loud but I pepper my entries with so many f-bombs, anyone who reads my blog for the first time would be surprised. I am not what I am; I am exactly what I am. A rag doll with its meticulous stitches viciously pulled out, then crudely sewn back together to the best of its ability. It's too bad it had to be this way.
The truth is, I haven't thought about you in a very, very long time. Out of sight, out of mind, and that's exactly the way I want it. But while you may be the first, it appears that you're not going to be the last in my string of bad judgement, poor taste, and brainless decisions. Do I pin this on you? Do I pin my inability to open up to another human being, my inability to see past the residual prejudices of what once was and see someone for who he is and not what I think he is, my absolute reluctance to ever again place myself in a position where I'm vulnerable to heart break, my found-again cynicism, my hardened shell - do I pin any of this on you?
The truth is, too, I'm not a strict liability person. And I'm not as irresponsible as you thought I was. Sure it's tempting, but it's not about you anymore. It's about me. I'm the one with the problem. You may have caused it, but I'm the one that allowed it to happen. I'm the one that saw the warning signs, but blithely chose to ignore them. I'm the one that jumped off the cliff - you didn't push me. You couldn't have pushed me anyway; you couldn't have made me do anything I didn't want to do. I pride myself on being smart, on knowing what I was doing, on being able to take responsibility for my own actions, answer to myself. So here it is: I accept full responsibility. It was all my fault. My current emotional ineptness, my inability to trust a person with a penis between his legs, my wanting nothing more from the opposite sex but gratuitous, meaningless physical pleasure - it's all my own doing. I don't have to see things this way, and I can be the bigger person and let it all go. But I've always been petty and small-minded, and so I can't let it go. I will never, ever let it go; I will never forget. As long as I continue to hold on tight, no one is ever going to replace you - and you're already gone.
The truth is, finally, I don't trust you. Not one of you. Not even the best of you.