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The first strike- revenge is beautiful. (566 hits)

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Submitted by SacredHeart (View user info) at 2004-05-15 03:38:58 EDT


I was hurting. The world as I knew it had ended. I had been thrust, unwillingly, into a dark chasm of depression and loneliness. She had left on the most cruel of days- April Fools Day. I was the fool. Four years I played the game. Four years I gave everything I had to give and had received so little in return. The questions were endless and the answers were not to be found.

Somehow, in my giving, I had wronged her. I do not know if it was moving away from my family or if it was supporting her in all that she did. Perhaps it was giving her every dime I made. For some reason this girl was out to hurt me. For some reason she wanted to tear out my heart and rip it to shreds while I watched in amazed horror. That is one of the questions that nobody could answer for me.

I know some guys like to give their member a name. That's for some folks, not for me. This girl had named mine for me. I guess she thought it was a cute thing to do. She called it "Earl". Upon arriving to the place where we once shared a bed I found, on top of my belongings, a CD single. I am sure some of you are familiar with the song and group. The Dixie Chicks - "Goodbye Earl".

That one kinda hurt. My buddy Eli couldn't understand why seeing that CD, carefully placed on top of my dishes and linens, would set me off.

After loading the truck with everything it could possibly hold we headed to the bank. Time to take back part of what I had put in. I had no reason to deal with the bank account. I gave her my checks, she paid the bills. Imagine my surprise at finding only $600.00 in the bank. Where had my money gone? All of the money I made, on top of everything she had made, and there was only $600.00 in there? Yet another unanswered question. Not wanting to be a complete ass, I took $300.00 and got out of Dodge.

I had been at home for a few weeks. I say home, but what I mean is that my stuff was at my mom's place. I floated from one place to the next, looking for a reason. This girl, the one who no longer wanted to be a part of my life. The very same girl who no longer wanted me to be a part of her life, had taken to calling my mom and my best friend. Calling to see if I was "ok". Does anyone really think that I was "ok" at this time? Of course not. She decided to drop out of my life but was "concerned for my well-being". She was the cat that came back. Again and again and again. Something had to be done.


"Susan, I have not been feeling well at all. My throat has been sore, I have had this strange rash, and recently I have had a fever. You know I hate doctors but I had to go. I was hurting too much. They ran a few different kinds of tests. Susan, I have Syphillis. You may want to go get checked out. I am sorry."

I didn't think much of this little note I sent her way. I didn't think that it had done what I had hoped it would do until about a week later my mom came up to me, with tears in her eyes, and said, "Oh, what has happened to you? WHY did you not protect yourself?"


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Maybe I should just cut my losses, give up on Lisa, and make a fresh
star with Maggie.

-- Homer Simpson
Lisa's Pony