Marie told me, when I asked if she was mad at me for abandoning her for a while, that she didn’t waste time nor energy in being angry. “I prefer to forgive. It feels better,” she said. “I wish I was like you,” I replied. Resentment has been eating at me for a couple of years now, and I can’t seem to shake it off my system. It’s like a disease, a cancer spread all over my soul.
In my latest efforts to forgive, I have been trying to switch from anger to pity towards L, my ex. Trying to look at things from a different angle, another perspective. In this new approach, I see it like this: she fucked another guy while she was with me. She has and will keep fucking other guys for a long time. Fair enough, good for her. But she will never, ever meet another me. There is no other Eduardo in the world that she can fuck or be with. She had not one, but two chances of being with me, and she blew both of them. For her actions, she will be denied, forever, of being with that one man she loved. Very sad, isn’t it? Makes my eyes water a little. And yes, I know that by saying this I sound like I’m full of myself and think I’m the shit. I do, to certain extent. But, even if I am/were a piece of shit, I am the piece of shit she loved and lost, for good. Still is sad, in the end.
Of course, even if this reasoning comforts me, I can’t forgive her. Because, on my side, I have suffered immensely. It’s hard to be okay with that suffering, for it was absolutely not deserved and uncalled for. And also, because sometimes I wondered if she ever actually loved me, or if this was just a very complex self-fulfilled prophecy of which I was a mere instrument for. Maybe she always thought that she was a horrible human being and she didn’t deserve to be loved. And when she realized I was falling for her, she did her best to prove me and herself that she was crap and, therefore, I should hate her. She actually said “Please hate me!” when she broke up with me the first time we were together. (Yet, she didn’t have the guts to tell me she also was fucking another guy. Convenient, innit?) So that’s when I get angry and change pity for rage. “L, you motherfucker!” my mind goes. “You and your fucking plot to always be the victim, to always make me look bad for being angry at you, for ‘breaking your heart,’ for ending our relationship and so forth. Well, you fucked things up from the very beginning, so fuck you!” Yeah, my mind is fucking pissed at her.
I must say, though, that this slowly consumes less energy and time in me. The fuel of my anger is burning out, and it seems my resentment tank has a limited capacity. “It took me a year and a half to move on after my ex,” once Marie said to me. It’s been almost nine months since my breakup and things are looking brighter. Perhaps I will beat Marie’s timing, even. Ah, the satisfaction of being better than someone at something. What a priceless feeling!