I Should Have Seen the Signs

Link Title: Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Editor

The finality of it all was the worst suffering. “Worst” because it mocked me in every plausible way.

Sometimes, we see the signs, but refuse to accept them.

That refusal often shakes hands with the devil. And that hand-shaking devil makes you think it was your fault I thought I wasn't good-looking enough, wasn't sensitive enough, not witty enough. I thought my body wasn't what it should be, my smile not bright enough and my lovemaking bland and weak. I thought it was me..

I thought I knew the signs.

Our bed now seems so small, so vast and expansive. So lonely and isolating. So empty. Our photos with such bright smiles of happiness;now I question their validity. Were they cheating when we took this picture? When did the cheating start? Where did they cheat? Was it in this very bed? This very bed that now seems so empty? Maybe it seems empty because of the traffic it once had? I sure hope their "friend" didn't use my toothbrush; I'm in a battle against plaque!

"Just a friend." Now if that ain't a sign....

Funny how that term always comes up when you ask: "Who?" How can you forsake what you had, and commit one of partnership’s worst crimes then pawn them off as merely a friend? A friend would never do that. A friend would talk you into solving your problems, not take advantage of them. I have plenty of friends, but they don't give me the birthday presents you got.

The imagery comes next, the signs in your mind. The mind creates the most abhorrent things when left to its own designs.

Horrible thoughts of fine wine and dining. Romantic whispered moments. Toasting the evening away. "OK, that's why you changed your hair." "That's why you bought a new wardrobe.....WITH MY MONEY! Were they reciting those very same words that were once meant only for your ears. Those horrible thoughts that cannot be proven - thoughts and paranoia. Paranoia about the who, what, when and how and regardless of how much is disclosed, you always feel there was more - always feel there was one more dirty little secret.

I thought I was above petty jealousy. I thought that if this ever happened, I would merely dismiss you for what you are. Funny how every boxer has a strategy until the first punch lands. I never thought I would check your pockets, listen to your phone calls, spy on you, question you, not trust you.

I hate what you did to me. I hate what you did to us. I hate you for forcing me to see the signs I thought to discard. For destroying my perfection. I became questioning of myself. I felt unacceptable and made myself unapproachable. I became unattractive, uncertain and compromised.

But, most of all, I hate myself for refusing to see the signs. The frequent late work evenings. The constant emergencies. The showers immediately upon coming home. The routine wrong numbers calling (with that fake ass Spanish accent), your abrupt hang-ups when I entered the room. The fatigue and lack of sexual prowess. (And me like a fool suggested Viagra - talk about just adding wood to the fire). Those funky ass drawers you tried to convince me you bought me and I wore the night we had champagne and celebrated a bit too much. Just one of the many lies I believed. Dayum, and I wore them since then. Ewwwwwwwwwww!

However, I would like to thank you for the experiences, both good and bad. For although you might think me insane, I appreciate the exposure you have given me to an avenue of life I never walked. And for making me a more rounded person, giving me the ability to offer my counsel to others.

And for allowing me to see the signs.