And then I’m sitting there sobbing, silently nursing small wounds, wondering what in the world has just happened to me. When I look at my phone, and it’s her again. It’s always her. She always has something to say. Some excuse, and as, in my current state of masochism, I click through the buttons to read her latest missive on her self immolated innocence, there it is. Those little words. Those gnawing, prickly little words that seem to beam with a childlike innocence, even though I know that beneath that paltry coat of guiltlessness lies a sea of stupidity.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Oh. Okay. Inhale, baby.
I mean, I guess I understand. I think this is supposed to be her version of a consolation prize for, “Hey, I’m not a malicious person out there trying to hurt you just for sport.” But somehow that doesn’t make it any better, and for one moment, I’m not sure why. But as I pore over her stupid little words, it begins. The words rushing out of me, racing against each other to tap their way into my worn down little keyboard, and as I stop to breathe, I realize. I can’t even say this in one text message. I should just stand up and walk to the corner store for another beer so I can properly process all the crazy that is jazzing its way out of my mind mouth right about now.
How fucking stupid can you be. How fucking selfish can you be. Maybe right now it’s not about your intent to hurt me, it’s about the mere fact that you did hurt me. You succeeded in hurting me, whether you were putting effort into it or not. And, you know what, baby? For someone who didn’t put any effort into ruining my world, you did a damn good job. I think you’re a fucking natural! Do you do this often? Because I think you were born to hurt other people. It’s a shame that this isn’t something that you put effort into, because, if you did, you’d be one of the best. But, no, instead, there you are, not even trying to hurt other people, but, there you ago, you just hurt people. You. Hurt. People.
And then there you are, entering an official plea of “not guilty” because you’re too damn stupid to know that this is the thing you do best. You lack the self awareness, although my best guess is that you’re willfully blind to the fact that hurting other people is your special forte. I think you should take “hurting people” out of your OK Cupid hobbies list and add it to your profession. I really think you can make money off of this. Especially if you just study up a little bit.
I mean, after all this, and you’re going to pretend that you didn’t know that your actions would hurt me? Oh, baby, you can lie to me, but I sure as hell hope you’re not lying to yourself. Because I would to hate to think that I spent so much time with someone who was just so…so stupid. So dumb. So blind. As though you hadn’t picked up on my weak spots and my sensitivities. Acting like you didn’t know I was vulnerable. Have you been asleep this whole time? Or are you just unaware of the nature of human pain?
I’d rather know that you tried to hurt me. Not because I want to know that you’re a bad person. But I want to know that the person I thought I cared about (loved?) is so ignorant of me, and who I am, and what pain is, so recklessly and willfully stupid about …all of this.