Unveiling my resentment

The day is bitter cold with a dash of skin tingling nostalgia from the brief glimpse of a dream of my classmate, tyler. My thoughts have been in a dirty rut of that sludge feeling since I cannot seem to get over how hateful I behaved with Farzin. It has been one of those eerie and damp feelings because my mind kept on replaying how dreadful it feels like to have imploded at him. The news of my positive results of hpv of course did not help an ounce at all and my breathing is shallower and much more rapid and harder to inhale without the urge to cry.

These uphills of my guilty aftermath and the rottenness of my anger towards him and this mystery woman whom he exchanged bodily fluids and extracted the worst side of who I am. It was in that moment where I literally saw myself outside of my body when I screamed and yelled in quest of “ who the hell is she and I want her damn name!” He retreated back into the wall and I remembered his eyes pooled of redden veins and tears dripped down his shirt.

There wasn’t an ounce of regret at that moment since all of the frustrations of him “telling me to not do this or that” to the fact that my resentment towards his “one night stand” has morphed into a very blackened and tar like material inside of me to have exploded at him that night. I desperately wanted to stop time and just simply freeze and pause to see why my hands, my sweat profusely face and angry tears landed on his face and head. The seconds slowed down and I can feel my right hand throbbed and his forehead was slowly reddened and a small bump formed.

He shook his head and raised his arms to block me and cried that he “ don't’ have a name to give me” I yelled again and asked over and over again like running over a flattened roadkill that I carelessly stomped over with no blink of an eye. My insides felt numb with sharp edges of brittle of hatred or the tinges of how hate must’ve felt like or contempt and satisfaction of how much he is crying and “pleading” with me.

I earnestly over-casted myself and wanted him to die at that moment with that whore of his “one night stand” I mumbled out that I wish he’d kill or out himself since he’s “depressed” all the time and that this world does not need him or his waste of air type of character. Pacing and prancing around I would smile evilly and with more curse words and death wishes I’d laugh out loud how much he cried and what a “pathetic” man he really is.

Along with all of that mess of snot bubbles and hot freshly brewed tears was me bringing how “cheap” and “unattractive” he is and how my condition was solely thanks to his careless actions with a stranger of a whore and he filth and her disgusting bodily fluid gave me something that is harmful to my cervix.

The thing about me is that I can be as affectionate and attentive to someone until they’ve proven to me that I am less than what I gave to them or the fact that my presence means nothing to them. All of the trials and tribulations I have felt through him on and off throughout the years from 2019 of January all the way until present time was as if a decade of turmoil and tornado of a kind of relationship was what I have gotten from this man.

The crying and mostly bitter humdrums of angry cries and down right and disturbing effects of the sharpen ups and sudden falls of downs was how we were as a couple whom “played” house and the fights was a replay/ of a terrible scene of the Ground Hog days or any low budget movies. You get the idea, don’t you? We are the oil and water mixture of a cheap homemade lava lamp and the chemistry in it even dampens any fire to be rekindled.

The only essence of ingredient that made it alright or somewhat lubricated in these friction driven and sand dusted types of daily ordeal was the fun, and passionate sex we had or maybe it was just all an imagination of my sick mind? I am twisted in so many ways and maybe, just maybe it wasn't all that great or passionate and tantalizing or even remotely real? There wasn’t enough substance to hold or secure the relationship at all is what I have gotten from all of this.

His own habits and severely insane controlling ways to live is NOT what my fragile and injured soul needed. I suppose after all he proclaimed or admitted to me about his “one night stand”, I presumed or figured he would actually bow down to me daily and get on one knee to apologize over and over again until his lips get cracked and bleeds.

That was my expectation and instead, I got a cheap person who eats what I bought almost daily and then, complains about how much “I spent” or the fact that he can get the groceries or “takeout” when he is finished with work or his exam from engineering classes. NO!!! Waiting for this man to do anything is like waiting for hell to freeze or if it will ever freezes with your bouts of pure imagination and defiance of great expectations.

After all of the vocalizing of my angry words and exchanges of hot flushed tears and more screams came my nauseated twists of the 2 beers that I begrudgingly consumed prior to all of the emotional uproars. At one point, he may or may not have held my hair so I could properly throw up and got buck naked and showered while still angrily yelling at him for that “bitch” name so I can sue her.

Yes, it was one of the most fraternity types of drunken stories that have been told many times by their “bros” but not me, a disabled woman veteran who is seemingly quiet and reserved most of the time. Surely this was an awakening for him to possibly never betray a woman or date an asian Marine veteran! I must admit the fact that the 2 beers may had added many factors or components to my anger or volatile ordeal but the underlying resentment was already brewing inside of me for 2 months since we’ve reconnected.

Through it all of the slimy and slithering garbages of this recycling of going back with him; I’ve relearned yet once again that there is a big and bold reason for it to not work at all. When someone who proclaims to care about you but yet do not tries hard to love you or counts every cents that they’re spending but denies how much you also contributes, its truly not love, it’s just a lust with heavy creamed infatuation.

Never have I felt the urge to run away so close next to someone and yet I’d die if his scent never infuses my nostrils or the vagueness of his skin against mine. For once in my entire almost forty years on earth, my heart has tanked to the bottom and got churned into an abyss and then, resurfaced to get the salty grains of ocean to cleanse my wounds.

It is both painful and very much therapeutic to submerge into what is the scrapings of my raw and unfettered beatings of my heart’s chamber. There is nothing left to scrape nor to pretend with a forced smile or shallow small talks. This the the end of the unlearning of what it feels like to recycle the lessons when it is not learned properly or wholeheartedly. It’s purely seething hot iron clad slaps of deeply buried self hatred to devilish of insecurities from unresolved trauma that surfaced simply with one person in 3 years.

I must have to say that this was one of those pain scorching unsolved lessons that or unequipped love that my heart and soul as well as my tainted sexuality shame needed to accept. I need to truly say farewell to what was taken from me many years ago. My little aiyan needs to know that that her uterus and vagina is still a temple of everlasting unblemished vehicle for her soul.

I am still beautiful as the markings of my past trauma has given me much depth with painful experiences. My lesson was to accept what was not welcomed and open my arms to love them. By me giving up my choice of how to react and to give in to compare myself to some mystery woman is beyond what the Universe made me to do on this planet. What does envy and jealousy and resentment have done to deserve my attention and energy?

All I have been doing was to fuel the darkness and extract so much of my own light to be smeared with this distasteful lesson. The pivotal point was when the screaming lead to him out crying furiously and borderline yelling on top of his lungs as he begged on his knees for me to stop asking for her “name”. As I stared down with my eyes un blinking and dried from angry tears and bewitched cackling of bewilderment; I laughed.

My words slurred and at some point, the cold staggering of me repeating how I’d stabbed him in his sleep or thrashing his work station to his cellular devices drove him to reach the phone as he peeked at me and dialed “911’. Oh yes, he dialed the three digit number that I’ve watched many times on T.V dramas to making fun of how there was always one person who gets in handcuffs.

The walls seemed to cave in as the thought of me being in the backseat of a cop car and then, it turned into an upside down frown when I also hoped he would be the one getting the cuffs! Have my whole state of mind gone down into crap o’ ville or what was happening to me? Stunned and silent as I listened to him calmly explained the situation and it was a “ relationship type of issues” and how his girlfriend was scaring him but without a weapon in hand nor did he murmur my name.

All it took was just a name or was it because he sounded docile and non life threatening and was not stuttering or having to scream over the phone? Meanwhile, I was replaying what not to say and how I should play this game since I’ve seen the show, certainly we all have seen these types of shows, right? Then again, it is Portland, OR and with Covid merging in the center lane, not much will be done to intervene anything unless a dispute is actually of people shooting or maybe a live stabbing or you missing a limb or two!

Nothing happened of course since the drunkenness has gotten to my whole system and my head was splitting me apart and I even begged him to cradle me. In puffy and sore eyes and a gash on my left inner wrist and him rubbing his bruised forehead; we actually hugged in the most pathetic way as well as to surrender this whole engulfed in flames type of suicidal relational bull shit show.

All the while he’d pat my back and kept stating that “everything will be okay” this infused my core to burst into tears and felt the drift of both tiredness and the white flag of my heart. I inhaled his breath under the blanket and just gave it all up this time around the mary go round of hellish nightmare on earth.

There isn’t an ounce of leftover hope to salvage a thing about this blow up of a smoked flames this time. NONE! There can’t be any left of explanation of reasoning to try again because my pieces of every cells to core of my dignity as well as the wheels of myself control was bounded tightly by what he did to betray my love or the idea of love with him committing that longest “one night stand” in which the ordeal has consumed my happiness and every peaceful fragments of who Aiyan is.

The event has bitten into my soul with a venom that morphed me into a savage animal that attacks someone presumably I cared about or perhaps it was a colorful obsession of the idea of Love that I simply distorted by his careless actions.

Nevertheless, the night drifted into the early morning dew in good ole Portland when the rain was the almost perfect storm embellished with my current tidal waves of emotional turbulence. Farzin awoke after my tossing and turns in midst of last night’s fueled, driven dramatic fall of our what felt like a decade of some bitter divorced old couple. In spite of it all, with a bruised left bump on his forehead and a slight mark also happened to be on the left cheek as well.

His head tilted towards my swollen face and asked “ Would you like me to grab you some hot coffee before we hit the road back to WA?” It was again one of the sullen and sorrow filled words after our on and off relationships of three years. Immediately my eyes pooled up with freshly brewed tears and dropped onto the navy blue sheets. I nodded slowly and looked up at him once more and realized the aftermath of what had painted onto our sour pouts of an early Saturday morning.

It seems that it is always Saturdays when I depart from his state as I reenter back to my true rainy and foggy state of WA. Minutes after a hot beverage and some short and very well tarnished chit chat; it was just a casual and non confrontational type of him giving me a hand to gather up my belongings and he’d made sure to ask if I was truly “Okay”.

In an odd and tragic sense, he had always tried to make a cordial or docile demeanor prior to me leaving or after this tsunami type of roof falling and meteors crashing kind of emotional explosions. I, on the other hand, tend to lean towards acting as if I didn’t feel a thing or completely have facial expressions of “ I don’t GAF” reactions but inside, I was broken into shreds of my heart strings painted bloody trails of agony.