Angry Cry of Entitlement

Ok, this is not going to be a pleasant post, so read at your own discretion. This will be more of a soul cleansing of sorts...a proverbial skeletons out of the closet post to clear my head and my heart for good.

So, as I sat basking in the wedding mist of yesterday, I cannot help but sit here today going through some mental anguish of what might/should have been. 4 years ago I never would have thought I would have become this fairly bitter and decidedly awful dater who cannot seem to make it past three dates with a guy before getting bent out of shape for some reason. I mean it's been two years for God's sake. What is holding me back? Me. My anger.

I cry in pure anger with myself with a sense of entitlement of the promises he made to me so long ago. Promises of loyalty, of honesty of love...and it was treated with disrespect and brought so much pain to my heart. I know that eternally there will always be this spot in my heart that will harbor both hate and love for this person because he's the only one that could have hurt me so bad because I loved him more than my heart would bear that the weight of his indiscretions collapsed a part of my hope...my fancy...my essence.

He had my heart...all of it. And for those who know me well know that does not come easy. My life has been built to protect me. Everything I done has been planned just so that I would come out seemingly unscathed. Not the best mentality I know since the bruises and scars of life make us the people we are. I developed a strength, a simple resistance to protect myself with this thin veil of confidence and hope. Unfortunately that veil was not reality.

As I sit here at age 26, I cannot help but look at my friends who are married, now some with kids who married the men they were destined to be with. I was supposed to be part of them. It's just like being picked last for gym class or something. Where everyone is pairing up together and soon enough I'm going to be the only one standing.

I fear that the damage has run its course on my soul. That there will always be this imperfect damage...a battle scar of sorts that is probably from one of the biggest wars of my life. It was the war of love. A war that I believe I fought valiantly for...but like any soldier from war, I left with bruises, with a different outlook and more often than not...came home a bit homesick. But I'm coming home. Back to me. Back to my essence. Because no one can take that from me.

I know that this particular person will read this and will either be completely angry at me or he'll finally understand a bit of the pain I still feel to this day and why on some days it just helps my heart heal a little bit by hearing an encouraging word from him. He is a good man. A good good man. And the woman who captivates his heart once again is forever blessed. God shined on us as long as He possibly could, and it was all for a reason. I pray for his happiness daily because my heart is always carrying a piece of me with him. I just hope that he says those same prayers for me.

Ok...I think I am done with my angry cry. The tears have now moved to tears of relief...tears that are more cleansing than anything for even though I feel damaged on the inside, the damage is what makes me Kassandra, and it's inevitably my imperfections that allow for love to exist.