Giving Up On This One

            Something has come to the forefront of my mind again.  Something I buried long ago.  I don’t know which is part of all this is worse:  the fact that this thought -this ever-present murmur in my ear- has come forth, twisting itself back into an agonizing shout, drowning my ears in its chaotic reverberation; or the reality of the thought itself -that I knew all along.

            I am a slave.  I do for one’s sake in hopes to do for mine own sake.  I am an indentured servant -gripped by the word love and in selfless servitude to the sayer of such word.  I am a dreamer -veiled in the false hope of providing a master’s satisfaction.  I am a fool -burying my head in the concept of love.

            In a rather poetic manner, I guess that I have been attempting to say that I have been an idiot. I begrudgingly say this, but I have been stupid.

            To put everything in perspective with our situation, I am a your slave.  I do for your sake in hopes to further my own cause -having a caring, loving girlfriend.  I am in servitude to you due to the word and the notion of love, for love is what I want.  I am a dreamer for I am blinded by a false hope that I can satisfy you, thus, I try to do what you want, in spite of my feelings about the matter.  I am a fool for I cover all of this over with the explanation that love is sacrifice, and I am only doing what anyone else does.

            I repeat: I don’t know which is part of all this is worse:  the fact that this thought has come back, or the reality of the thought itself -that it never went away. 

            You are probably wondering where all of this came from -what sparked this little monologue of mine.  In that is where I stumble, for in all actuality, I had thought this for a while now.  I just never said anything.  I thought that I could satisfy you to the point that this wouldn’t matter.  But, in reality, you mother was the spark that ignited the fumes. 

            She called me today.  The first thing of consequence that came out of her mouth was “I’m very disappointed in you.” -an attention getter to say the least.  From there she went into a few “how could you” statements, of which I sat back and attempted to take in;  How could I take those pictures, how could I let you do that, how could I…, how could I…”I trusted you,”  she said to me.  “Now, I don’t know if I can trust anyone.” Her words cut me Heather.  I started to feel sick.  I heard her well up with tears.  She was crying Heather.  Your mom was crying because of me.  “I thought you were different, Tony.” “I thought that you would point her in the right direction.”  “I trusted you.”  Her words and her tears are engraved into my skull Heather.  They echo within me now. 

            She was right.  How could I blindly appease the wishes of you.  That’s exactly what I did.  That is exactly what I have done.  To give a few examples:  the time that I left my house, that I walked out of my house and I asked you to come for me -that was brought on by you -I wanted to appease your desire for me to rebel against my mother; the tattoos and the piercing -of which I thought all of them were bad ideas, in spite of what I said to you;  and recently, the video and the pictures -of which in the absolutely private sense I though was fine, but now, I realize that I didn’t think through your actual intent behind the pictures.  I guess that I figured that all of this was for our own fun, our own private fun.  But now I realize that I was only a tool for you -just as I was for the tattoos and the piercing, just as I was for the escape from your house, just as I was for your music, just as I was for your ninety-five dollar phone bill, which you still haven’t repaid me for, just as I feel now.              With all of these realizations, and with a few added consequences, I feel like that is all I am to you: a tool.  Knowing that you’ve cheated on me numerous times, knowing that you still aim to please and tease seemingly every guy you come in contact with, knowing that you never listen to a suggestion or a want of mine -unless it directly benefited you in some way, and knowing that all this will most likely continue, I can deduct one thing -there’s one thing that I am thinking right now.  That our whole relationship was to create a new tool for you. 

            You’ve said it yourself, you need affection.  I was willing to give you that affection.  So you decided to try me out -to see if I can satisfy your hunger for affection.  I did, so you stayed with me.  I mean, it’s common sense: why go in search of a source of affection, when you can have one at your fingertips? -it’s basic logic.  Then, after a while, I wasn’t readily available -a.k.a. I came to college.  So you needed to find that local, immediate affection somewhere else.  So you cheated on me to get your affection, taking your needs over me.  You knew that this was going to happen; that your source of affection was leaving, so you kept in contact with all of your variable sources of affection -a.k.a. the other guys.  That is why you cannot give up your so-called night life now -you’re afraid to lose your backup affection-ers. 

            Then, you began to talk to me more, and you realized that now you could come up here and stay the night, making a new realm of possibilities for you.  What did we do the first night you were here?  We went to a party, which I wanted nothing to do with -no matter what I said to you.  You wanted alcohol, you wanted fun, you wanted the party, you got all three at my expense.  You wanted to be flirtatious, you were, at the expense of me.  Everything that happened that night was at the expense of me.  Even sleeping that night was at the expense of me.  I wanted to be with you -to hold you in my arms.  But that didn’t happen. So even sleeping that night was at the expense of me -I slept in Rob’s bed. 

            Now, having a taste of what my life could give you, you kicked it into overdrive.  To you, this college is an escape from your reality.  The only thing that you are doing is siphoning life from my reality -draining bits of life from my reality: a world without parents, without work, without cares, without restrictions.  So you come to my world, take what you can, then leave.  Seriously.  You come here, do what you cannot in your world, then go back with a new Xanga entry and the products of a night out of your life. 

            If I wanted, I could go out and party every night, I could get tattoos, piercings, etc. -it’s one of the perks of going to college- but I don’t.  Why don’t I?  Self-control:  I know what I came to college to do, so I am doing it.  I know that if I wanted I could just please my wildest desires here, but I don’t, for I know what I want in the future.  Not exactly, of course, but more so than I think that you do.

            You think for the moment -what do you want right now?  Then you try to get it.  If you get it, you’re happy -for the moment.  Then tomorrow, you want something different.  If you get it, you’re happy -for the moment.  Then the next day comes, and you want something different.  This goes on and on.  But the thing is, when you look back on what you wanted say a few days ago, you may not want it anymore -like the n****e ring.  That is called impulsing -getting what you want today, without thought onto whether you’ll want it tomorrow.  That is what it is like when you come up here -all impulse.

            As I said, you come here, do what you cannot in your world, then go back with a new Xanga entry and the products of a night out of your life.  Think of it this way, you never would have gotten your tattoos, your piercings,  your video, at home -and by home I mean at your house.  Sure, you could’ve gotten some jabroni that you know to do it, but no one would have paid for it, no one could have you overnight, and no one is out of the way as I am. 

            So there you are.  Everything comes down to what Heather wants -in spite of what it does to anyone else.  Sure, I appeased the wants of yours I could.  I figured that if I did that, you would never leave me.  I guess, in a way, I am getting what I want.  I’m just not getting it the way I want.  You aren’t going to leave me if I continue to give you everything that I can.  But that will never be enough, will it? 

            I guess that I’m trying to say that I’m tired of being a tool.  I’m tired of being a source: a source of immediate, available affection; a source of selfless sacrifice in monetary means; a source of an escape from your reality; a source of the undoable in your reality; a source that you can just take from.  Sure, you give back.  But I liken it to cutting down a forest, then planting grass -it just doesn’t cover it. 

            I give to you without a thought of the consequences.  That is my mistake.  That is where I have gone wrong.  It seems that you give to me with only a thought to your next want.

            This is where this has to end -I don’t want to make your mother cry, and I don’t want to be you puppet anymore.

            This is me saying that all of this has to end.  I do love you and that is what is hurting me the most.  I don’t know whether you truly do or not -like I’m just a tool. 

            So, I’m going to hang up the phone now, unless you have anything to say, and I’m going to live my life.  I won’t be waiting by the phone, I won’t be choked every night with tears, and I won’t be your slave, your idiot, or your tool anymore.  If you want to be a part of my life, you come to me, but I will not let you take from it anymore.  Goodbye Heather.  I hope you find your way, whichever way that may be.  Bye.