Today I move from the apartment that has been my home since I moved to SoCal a little under two years ago. I'm leaving the home that Wendy found for us. I have so many memories here. After reading Wendy's myspace journal I thought that there were maybe a lot of good times here. Now I think I might have been wrong. Pain and suffering. That's how I feel about it now. I picture her crying in the bed we once shared and makes me feel less than human. I am a bastard for so many reasons. I can't help but cry right now. Wendy was everything to me. Her journal entry has brought tears to my eyes. I hate myself even more than I did before after reading it.
I'm actually glad I'm leaving this apartment. I can bear to be here another moment knowing or should I say thinking about images of Wendy crying on our bed, losing her with every moment because I lost her trust by lying, flirting, and having a monster of a temper. I sit here and try to think about the fun times. I can't. I try and all is see is this fight or that fight. Yelling and screaming. The grabbing her roughly. She's right to wish death upon me. I remember when we came here to SoCal together so excited to be in a big city (bigger than San Francisco) and try our hand in acting. The love was so pure then. Now it has withered away like an old tree. I look back and think about how we would playfully tickle one another or cook dinner together. How we would go across the street and have BBQ chicken. Memories that are so clouded by hate and distrust. I remember the night I laid out candles for her in our living room and made a veggie pasta dinner. I remember the time and effort she put into making this beautiful hand drawn picture of us. Her smile so infectious you couldn't help but be captivated by it. All gone.
The tears streaming down my face sting my eyes. I hate this feeling. I hate imagining how she felt. Someone who loved me so much only to be betrayed because I'm such an asshole to her by neglecting her and taking her for granted. I hate myself so much right now. I don't want any pity from anyone over this matter. Pity is reserved for people who deserve it. I don't, so don't waste a tear, or a prayer on me. My self loathing has reached new heights this morning. I only blame myself.
While cleaning yesterday I found a note that Wendy had written me on my birthday. It read:
Happy Birthday Jay!! You are the most amazing man and I'm happy to be with you. The past year has been fulfilled. I hope the upcoming year is filled with hard work, more dreams fulfilled, luck, happiness, and love. I love you, sexy 31 year old Jay! Love Wendy :)
Lies....I picture her writing it. Lying to herself as she writes it. Her heart breaking at the sheer lies underneath it all. There's nothing amazing about me. Trust me on this one. The one thing I am amzing at is fucking up the good things in my life. That's a talent not easily learned. After reading that I felt horrible. To take someone for granted when all they wanted was a man to treat her with love and respect. I'm going to buy a shirt that reads "World Class Fuck-up". I plan on torturing myself for quite sometine over this. Wendy if you read this please be my guest and remind me of it everyday and all the bitterness you can muster inside you. I deserve it and I won't say your overreacting. I can see why you hate me so much. That makes two of us.
I do have a few memories that were fun here in the apartment. Wendy dropped a frying pan on my foot once. It was pretty funny. Then there was the cake she baked for me on my 30th birthday. That thing was huge. I'm going to miss watching a movie with her in bed and even playing Star Wars:Battlefront with her on the 'ol PS2. I am alone. I have myself to blame.
I'm not going to get into all the crazy shit she did but trust me when I say it was looney.
This will be my last post for awhile. I won't have internet access. Happy New Year everyone.
