Good Faith Mind Games

Thinking.
It is the way I mourn. Sometimes it brings me to tears -- and I'd cry like a hurt little critter on the roadside. Sometimes, though, it lifts me up and calms me down.

All of this ... because I think with my heart. My mind and heart are one.

I am just like that.

And tonight, I thought about him ... again. My heart and mind played games with each other, like a chess game with the black knight of missing him dueling the white of his non-existence. But funny how the two sides fit perfectly together to reflect the truth.

I am starting to realize why he asked me why I hate him. He may truthfully not see that he was being harsh and cruel with the way he broke up with me. Through the lenses of his own experiences and the sting of the chip on his shoulder that he tries so hard to ignore (but it never fails to bother him - his efforts actually turned into his overbearing ego), he really thought he was doing the both of us a favor (whether his efforts are true or not, it is too early to judge, if judging is even fair in this case -- why compare an apple to an orange?).

Though I am baffled -- and even angered -- by the silliness and ignorance of his half-reasonable rationale, I actually somewhat appreciate the simplicity of his logic. After all, he is being himself. No, he never changed from good to evil, like I so willingly believed. I never changed from better to worse, like he did not want to believe.

Perhaps what I am most disappointed and pained (and angered) by is the fact that, through the entire time we were together, he never discovered who I was, still am and have always been as a person. The topical "intelligent, honest, pretty" just does not cut it as a description of WHO I AM. Instead, he assumed who I was and treated me as such. That drove me into a functional depression that even my roommate at the time could tell. The vibrant Elaine withered.

I can visualize the difference it would have made if only he had more truthful and realistic appreciation of who I am. Perhaps I'm boasting, but I imagine that I am not the type of person that others can easily give up -- just as it is easy for me to attach myself to people I deem worthy. Worth -- yes, that is the point here. He never saw my worth.

But would he realistically have been able to realize ME for being ME, without knowing who he is and what he wants underneath his facade of strength and certainty? Could it have been possible for anyone, first, to explore a person's value and, second, to help that person to further those values for wholesome, mutual benefits?

Probably not. The will just wasn't there.