Have you ever had an experience where someone you hurt in your past rises from the ashes of your memory and returns to the forefront?
It's oddly familiar yet bathed in repentant guilt.
Forgiveness of my past relationship sins will never occur in my mind. No, I never cheated. Or hit. Or even verbally abused. I adore women and sometimes that blinds me to the fact that I'm a complete and utter idiot when it comes to their intoxicating species.
I walk a fine line between entertaining and annoying. Sarcastic and brutally honest too.
Sometimes I wonder if all the pain and humiliation of Dialysis is simply the universe's way of bringing balance to the force of nature that is my life.
Maybe that's why she's back too.
If only I could go Tivo my life up to this point and simply rewind to the moment where the hurt began. Take that sliver of a memory and erase it from existence.
Maybe then she'd still be around.
Cute little giggle. Almond shaped brown eyes. Shaped not like these stick figures that smile knowingly at you from the pages of "People." She was a real woman. And I adored every minute of our time together.
And now, another man is making her happy. That brings me a small relief of conscience.
At the same time, a devilish version of my inner self is sitting on my shoulder imagining her naked.
When I can take no more of his ramblings, I shove Devil Stacy into the top drawer of my desk with fully aged Taco Bell sauce packets and French's Yellow Mustard. Let him stew in the minute amount of jealousy I feel toward a man I've never met.
Many people on their deathbed boldly state they have no regrets. I call bullshit on them.
Six days of Dialysis a week allows one to stew in their own past regrets. The longer they boil, the more difficult they are to evaporate from one's soul.
So whether she wishes it or not, she'll always be a part of me. But never truly a part of my life.