Fuck.

You're sorry.  I get it.  Don't you understand that?

It's not that I don't think you are sorry, it's rather that I don't think you are sorry enough.  In fact it's that I'm not sure you could ever be as sorry as I have decided that you should be.

And no, when I say decided I don't mean it was a choice.  I'm not actually implying  that I sat down and decided there was a specific amount of remorse you should feel, some  certain amount of your life you should change in order to appease me, or a particular  chain of events that must unfold like a video gamebefore the magical door to tomorrow would open and we could move on to the next level, or with the rest of our live.

And no, I don't wake up each morning with a well thought out list of ideas of ways to make you feel guilty, or to make you angry, or to make you miserable. (Though on the bad days, it's a perk, I admit.)  The truth is- I wake up just barley able to find my way out of the night and praying that for just one minute of the day I forget, and you forget, and we pretend.

Pretend what, you ask?  
(You don't, but I wish you would, so I could finally have a reason to say..)

Pretend that it was a year ago.
Pretend that I didn't know that you know what the taste of her lips feel like, the depth of her body..
Pretend that I didn't know that you know what life just almost without me is like, and that it turned out you didn't die, or stop breathing, and that the world went on, at least your world went on, and that there was someone else, and even if it ended- that it was possible that it began at all.

Pretend too that I didn't know what it was like now to sit at home and let you lie because being lied to was somehow better than being left-- and that it wasn't that I wanted to believe you, it was that I wanted you to love me, and I was afraid if I said "Don't do this" you would anyway.   So I just didn't say it, I just didn't say "Stay, don't go to her, whoever she is, just stay and pretend with me"...which I guess from the bathroom floor, hiding from what's left of my pride, drowning in tears, was all that was left of me.  


So when you ask 'when' (When will it be enough, when will it stop, when will it not be about everything, when will I forgive you, when...)  I want to tell you- (but I just can't) that on some days, like today,  I think the answer is "Not ever, at least not as long as I love you".

I just don't think it's possible to smell the back of your neck when you sleep, or feel the brush of your hand as you lead me in a room, or pick up dishes you leave in the bedroom, or clean your hair from the sink and not want to fall to my knees and just cry and hurt- because I don't know who you were to her...but you are everything to me.  And that.. that changed everything.  So when you say "You can't make this about everything"- you're wrong.  It IS about everything.  It's about you.  And me. And the unsettling reality that who I am hinges on the the assumption that you will wake up in the morning and that somewhere in your day you will love me.


The truth is  I don't know if I'll ever be who I was before, but the one thing I do know is that I'll never be her, and sometimes I just hate you for ever making me wish I was.

You just can’t change other people.

You just can’t.
I just wanted everything to be alright.
Sometimes I dared to hope for good.

I just wanted to be happy.
I wanted him to be happy.
A lie.
I wanted him to change and be happy.

Broken promises.
Broken things.
Broken people.
And I grew so tired.
And finally, so numb.


I have to admit that I still grow a little sad when I think about that look in his eyes. The way he used to smile, like nothing had ever been wrong.

Those were the times I thought I could make a difference.

But I couldn’t.

And it is this truth that inspires my heart to break and quietly deaden at the same time.

Why there is at least one person happy I am not a ninja, yet.

Mr. Ninja is an amazing man.

The key word to that sentence really being man. This of course means through complete fault of his own, but very often without any intention at all, he says or does things which if I were already a Ninja probably would have been met with great pains of unimaginable kind. But because I am not a ninja (yet) I find other ways to seek revenge, ways which I accredit to being a woman, and a passive aggressive expert.

I have fine tuned my skills to be the envy of all slightly annoyed women everywhere. Focusing and training in the art of "YoucantproveIdidthatonpurpose doe".

Examples include: Stealing the good pillows, hiding his toothbrush, shaving my legs with the razor he uses on his face, drinking the last of the diet coke before leaving the house, hiding the toilet paper supply when I go to work, losing the batteries to various remotes and controllers in the house, losing the remotes and controllers themselves, and I'm not ashamed to admit that sometimes- I kick him. (When I'm really mad I even wait till he's awake to do it.)

What you ask would make someone do these things?


The Reasons I want to stab love Mr. Ninja


1. While walking through the mall Mr. Ninja lovingly and encouragingly informs me that should I lose a little more weight I may soon be able to start buying clothes at Lane Bryant.

(For those of you who don't know that is a plus sized woman's store- of which I have NEVER been big enough to shop at. Mr. Ninja swears he has no idea, but sometimes I wonder if he's getting back at me for pointing out that he must have recently improved his diet and calcium intake- judging by the impressively thick and fast growing hair springing up in his ears..)

2. In noticing and commenting on other women in my presence I am extremely lucky to have such a considerate man. Mr. Ninja has only two situations with women in which he finds it necessary, or perhaps helpful- to share his opinion of other women with me. I suspect it is because he is afraid that without his verablization I may otherwise not notice the following:

A. Her boobs are bigger than yours.
B. Her butt is smaller than yours.

(Please note these are not interchangeable. He will forgo all commentary if the above mentioned are opposite and I have the bigger breasts, or the smaller butt. He also pays absolutely zero attention whatsoever to women who are my equal to my size in either area.)


3. Mr. Ninja gives me credit where none is due. He thinks I can do the impossible, and will defy common sense and geography to try to atribute powerful things to me. For instance- no matter where we are, what we are doing or who else is around- if there is a foul odor Mr. Ninja immediately turns to me and says "Did you do that?" or "Is that you?".

(This has happened outside of chicken farms, next to homeless people, while changing poopy baby diapers, every single time we drive over road kill, if there is a skunk within a 20 mile radius, and my favorite- when we both know full well it was HIM- he will still make a point of asking me out loud (Especially if there are others around) if it was me.

**You would think I was exaggerating here, so I find it necessary to tell you that once after doing a quick enter/exit of the mens room Walmart in which there was some sort of bad odor, Mr Ninja scrunches up his face in disgust, nearly pukes in his mouth, walks the 30 or so feet to where I am standing near a check out- and asks if it was me.....)

4. Mr. Ninja wants to make sure I sleep comfortably. I am reminded of this every night when I climb into bed, close my eyes, and almost fall asleep. This is when Mr. Ninja decides it's time to make sure I can sleep comfortably. (Time is irrelevant, I've tested it- 8, 9, 10 at night- 3 in the morning, it doesn't matter.) He does this by turning on the light, telling me I have to get up out of the bed immediately, throwing all of the blankets and pillows on to the floor and 'fixing the sheet'.

(Please note that 'fixing the sheet' ONLY works if your wife/girlfriend is physically in the bed, eyes closed, almost asleep. So like Mr. Ninja you must ignore ALL requests to 'fix the sheet' before she gets into the bed. Please give her a chance to settle comfortably in the bed and just begin to relax before begining the process or your success is not guranteed. Also note that it is extremely important that you do this on days which she has been especially busy, tired, sick, or stressed.)

5. Mr. Ninja believes that love makes anything better.

Some examples include;

a. Telling me while in the shower together, in a sexually tense set of moments, that he could never shave my thighs because they are kind of lumpy.
but don't worry, he still loves me.

b. Pointing out that the single life was amazing and how much he missed it...
but but but he loves me. (<--- the but but but came I assume when he realized who he was talking to and what he had actually just said)

e. Casually mentioning that had he not been such a douchebag he'd have married his ex-girlfriend and be living a completely differently life, assumingly better...
.. but I should be glad he didn't, cause he loves me.


6. Mr. Ninja never forgets the little things. He may forget every big holiday that comes around, including anniversaries, birthdays, Valentines, and Christmas- but he never ever forgets the little things. Examples?

a. That I have exactly 3 moles that 'wiggle' and are almost reason enough for him to have me put down in 23 states, and the exact location of each, capable of dodging them at light speed.

b. That I casually mentioned that I would massage his feet 3 months ago on a Tuesday but he decided to go out with his friends instead, so I still owe him.

c. Any item during the previous year to which I said "You can buy that when we get the tax return".

d. How long it has been since I made him his favorite meal and the reason he hasn't liked every meal before, or after that one.

e. The names of girls he slept with before me. (He cannot compile a list of said girls because there are too many to name and number, however he can- after meeting a girl and hearing her name- quickly, and without any solicication on my part, tell me if he slept with a girl by that name, how hot/bad/good she was. He then follows up with a polite 'moment of silence' for said girl in which I can only imagine he is paying respect and remembering the action as he gazes with nastolgic towards the unknown.)


It is because of these things, and so so many more that I remind myself daily how lucky I am to not have been driven buckfuck nuts in a crazy house by this man to have him, and am not sure what I would do with the extra money I would save on medicationwithout him.

Now if you'll excuse me I think I'm sitting on his sunglasses, again.