Misdirected

I had every right to be furious with Les.
And I was... sort of.

I couldn't muster what I thought was an appropriate level of rage for her.

I was relieved.
It was almost over.
I could go back to what I knew best.
I could go back to being alone.

I was angry, but I couldn't focus it on her.
So I focused it on him.

My philanthropic gesture of educating his fiance was a backhanded strike at him.

Take my wife?
Try this on for size, Asshole.
Try and hit back.
I dare you.
Give me an excuse to rip you apart.

I needed a villian, and he was the logical choice.

If I made Les the villian, I would have to examine my part in what had transpired more closely.
I was in no shape to do that.


Years later, I am beginning to see the picture more clearly.
The fact is, everything that happened was ultimately my doing.

If I had dealt with losing May when it happened, I wouldn't have let a large portion of myself die with her.

If I had believed myself still worthy of unconditional love, I would have taken comfort in my family, not bottle after bottle of Vodka.

If I had not blamed myself for May's death, I wouldn't have seen justice in Cheryl's betrayal.

If I had not isolated myself, I would have heard the warnings of those who still love me.

If I had loved myself, I would have demanded it from the woman I chose to marry.


All of this has been my doing.
I took the blame for something I had no hand in because I couldn't face it as it truly was.
That burden changed me.
And I caused everything since.

I am the villian of this story.