“You have an extreme intolerance for a lot of things, the chief of which being bullshit.”
~Dustin to me, April 2012
The hardest action to take is sometimes no action at all.
Tonight is one of the difficult nights. I am tired and sad and frustrated; recent life events piled atop this grief have sapped my emotional resilience. Above all, I am angry.
Angry that I am sitting here alone when I should be curled against his side.
Angry that he died in fear and in despair.
Angry that I am struggling, and have always been struggling, on some level, in some way.
Angry that he and I were cheated out of our happily-ever-after, or at least a halfway decent shot at it.
Angry that I’ve regained all the weight I’ve lost.
Angry that among all the people I see in my daily life, there isn’t a single person I feel I can turn to.
I don’t feel attractive, sexy, or lovable. I know I can be a difficult person, and that I am an acquired taste, as it were. I am blunt and brutally honest and that’s often mistaken for cruelty; as he put it, I never sugarcoat anything. He knew all of this, and loved me for it, not in spite of it.
So tonight, when I want to send all the plates in the house spinning towards the walls, I am sitting here, trying to feel the anger and allow it to flow through me and around me, without acting on it. Observing it, letting it pass. Breathing.
But I still want to call bullshit on the Universe.
What did I ever do to deserve this? What did he? Why, when the two of us finally managed to find something beautiful and pure and noble and true, did it get ripped away?
Loving him was as easy as breathing. In his arms, moving together, was the most profound sense of belonging and joy and divinity I’ve ever known. And now my bed is stone cold, and what’s left of my heart has gone up in flames.
Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.
I don’t want to be bitter. I don’t want to be dark and twisted. So I will be angry, and I will burn, and in the end, I will be clean. Maybe not whole, maybe not better, but clean.
Clean, but still bereft, and still alone. Bullshit, Universe. Bullshit.