I had my heart broken today for the last time ...
I was snooping ... Mea Culpa.
I can't help it ... It seems that every time I do, I find what I'm looking for ...
I loved her ... but she doesn't understand ... if she does, then she hates me.
I can't believe what I found today ...
I feel like half of my conscience wants to show me the truth that I've known for almost a year.
I also feel the other half wants to pretend that everything is normal and OK. Because I, like everyone else, need to love and be loved.
I never mistreated her ... at least that’s what she says.
I never deserved the lies and deceit ... at least that’s what she says.
I never understood, no matter how hard I tried.
I communicated, I negotiated, I pleaded, I even quit the relationship ... but she always came back.
I took her back each time ... the reasons were many:
I felt that she understood my frustration and that she felt bad.
I felt that maybe she could sense the loss of my love and actually missed it.
I felt that she finally understood that my patience and understanding of her painful, unexplained crimes was really my trying to understand her issues and still stand beside her.
I even felt that maybe she could understand that my being there through all of this was because I loved her.
I took her back willingly each time, thinking that at last we were going to once again share the love I tried so hard to show her.
I remember feeling, many times that it was time to move on, but she always lured me back.
I loved her more than any woman I had ever been with.
I worked harder on this relationship than any other in my life.
I read the poem for the first time the day she gave it to me.
I looked at the title ..."Jeff Gaines"
I was so flattered ... I had tears in my eyes.
I read the words and the tears leapt to my cheeks.
I caressed the golden frame she had mounted it in.
I looked into her eyes ... flattered that she could write such a beautiful thing ... about ME!
I can't say that any one had EVER done such a thing.
I hung it on the wall in my living room at my cottage by the river for all the world to see.
I wanted them to see it; it was the most beautiful poem I had ever read. How could this be about me?
I would read it and my insides would get all warm and fuzzy.
I couldn't hide the joy on my face as I read the words ... over and over again.
I could never put into words what that poem meant to me.
I could never put into words what the girl who'd wrote it had meant to me.
I could definitely never put into words how it made me feel to think that I had inspired those words ...
I told you earlier ... Mea Culpa. Mea máxima culpa ...
I was snooping ...
I found that poem in a spiral notebook ... from her days in high school.
I found that she had written it about, and for, someone else.
I found that it made me feel like our whole relationship was a lie.
I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why she had been with me, or what she wanted from me.
I looked back through the time we spent together and I remembered all the lies and games I had to deal with, never giving up, because I believed in this relationship ... and her.
I always tried to make her feel confident in my feelings for her.
I felt like she always tried to make me doubt.
I found that as I read the words in her own handwriting, it finished what was left of my heart and it finished what love I had left for her.
I didn't think it was possible.
I couldn't believe that the biggest lie she'd ever told me ... was hanging on my wall.
I envied him.
In all honesty, I wasn't snooping. It just worked easier in the composition to not explain that. But I will here. I was sitting at the computer desk in our apartment. On my left was a 3 foot wide, 3-shelf, book case. It was filled with ring-binder notebooks of hers. Probably more than 200! She'd told me they were her "Notes from school" and I never gave them another thought. I had never touched one in over 4 years.
But that day, I had found something online that I wanted to write down. The printer tray was empty, so I looked around for a scrap of paper and figured I might find a blank sheet in one of these notebooks. I randomly grabbed one that had a larger ring in its spine, because it was easier to grab. I put it on my lap and opened it to a random page ... RIGHT to that poem.
Once again, the universe showing me things I am in desperate need of seeing. It was one of the sadder moments in my life, I must say. I opened MS Word and wrote the date at the top. Then I cut loose with whatever came out. The format of every line beginning with "I" just happened ... I left it, as is, and that was that.