This is not to say he wasn’t an asshole.
The truth is, he was. Or maybe he still is. Perhaps he’s just honest enough about it. That is, if honesty makes one less guilty of his blunders.
This is not to say he wasn’t at all, an asshole. The truth is, he was trying to be one. Maybe he just believes in his idea of love so much. That is, if trying is any different from actually doing it.
Now Sarah isn’t with us. We all used to think that mistakes always happen with her around. It has been so long since we’ve last seen her and we have turned down most of her invites. Of course we know for a fact now that the fault is not with her.
Now this place may be better than Sarah’s. But I hoped that more than that, we were better people. But we’re not. We still play with words and emotions on careless nights and simply changed the name of the game to something more mature. That is, if we somehow derive maturity by what we can do with time and age.
It amuses me how feelings would betray us. Or how life would poke fun at me by giving me what I used to wish for when I no longer need it, and for giving me a taste of what I want now and then suddenly taking it away.
It fascinates and bothers me altogether how much we’ve changed and stayed the same anyway. It prods me to ask myself if I ever really learned. And if there’s one thing that has probably been the gauge of what made me forgive myself and somehow let go of the past— it would be him. I have always considered you being an asshole, the reason things didn’t work out for us. And to be fair enough, this is not to say that he isn’t.
Perhaps he’s just hopelessly believing in true love and that made him a little more honest. Honest enough to end a relationship than stay in it and cheat. Honest enough to say that all he could give is probably a couple of rounds in those adult games. Enough not to lead someone on for his sick selfish reasons and then leave when he’s flapped his ego saying he didn’t mean to. Enough to tell where someone stands in his life from the very start rather than play the innocent, confused kid torn between two equally precious gems in his life because in truth, a person who does that loves no one but himself. To hurt you with the truth, even if that truth is only a fabrication of the defenses he has built to guard his heart. To say just how far he can only go for you. He’s honest enough to say when it’s love and when it’s not. When to ask someone to stay and when to tell the person it’s time to leave.
The only reason, for me, that this may be better than losing myself with Sarah is that I probably know better now. I’m not saying I have perfectly been pushing for the right decisions or that I won’t be making the same mistakes again. But at the very least, i’d like to believe now in a little more honesty, a little more meaningful pain, or probably in some painful honesty. And that, I learned after tonight, is something that you’re still not capable of giving.