|WEEK IN CRAIG: BOBBLEHEAD JESUS SAYS...|
|By Amy Blair||
Catholics love confessing shit.
Having grown up Catholic, I'm pretty much addicted to it. Don't get me wrong -- I'm no Believer, and you're certainly not going to catch me in any church saying an Act of Contrition to any priest anytime soon.
In fact, pretty much the only time this lapsed Catholic talks to God is when she's getting head.
And yet, I can't help but think that there's something inherently necessary about confessing. Not in a churchy way. I just think that everyone would be a Hell of a lot better off if they just told someone when they have something on their mind. Thankfully, for those times when you're just too embarrassed or afraid to tell someone your deepest secrets, there's always craigslist to substitute for the real-deal full-blown in-person disclosure.
So, let's all head into the confessional and see what kinds of anonymous admissions are being whispered to Father Craigslist. For convenience sake, I'll play Jesus. No offense, of course, to the good Lord himself.
And now I see that this isn't working for me. After three long ass years. I cannot support both your 25 year old ass and my son. And I blame myself. I truly believe that men are truly a woman's weakness. Like a virus, you catch it, cannot shake it and it infects you. It will destroy whatever you have if you let it.
Let's not get me wrong... I love "Love"
It's a great feeling, a great moment. But past being fodder for movie plots, poetry inspiration and propogating the species, Love holds one back.
So now I know, how in the hell do I get you out of the house? I know you have no where to go... But I feel my life being sucked from me day by day. I pay your cellphone bill, I've damn near maxed out my cards trying to keep up with expenses. This is bull crap!
Listen here... I am better off with no man in my life ever.
Answer me this: Why do married men live longer than single men while single women live longer than married women? Because marriage/relationships are better for the man than the woman. Women end up taking care of more of the responsibility in the relationship than men in terms of everyday care and perhaps even financially. Which sucks cause women make less than men most times than not.
My biological clock no longer ticks! I forsee making more money and being more secure just being by myself. I just need an off switch. A do-over. An exit clause.
And just in case you're wondering "why the hell not to throw him out?" it's because he'll throw a huge screaming, throwing shit everywhere fit. He does not have anywhere to go, literally. Fear the man with nothing left to lose.
And fear the woman with no caring left in her heart who no longer gives a crap and resents your dumb ass.
|Jesus says: Thanks for confessing. Like, the Kingdom of God shalt be yours, or something. Now dump that deadbeat motherfucker.|
I know you'll never see this, so I guess I'm doing it for me, really -- to try to drain the poison and pain from my soul, at least a little.
You didn't deserve all those horrible things I wrote to you, even though it's true, you are as fucked up as I am, and we both know it. And I know there's no way of ever bringing back your love for me, nor my trust in you.
I also know that it probably wouldn't have worked in the long run, anyway...
But none of that matters when it comes to the simple fact that I still love you and I miss you SO BADLY. I am absolutely miserable and heartbroken and spiritually destitute without you. What good are all those beautiful memories if they're too painful to think about?
Those first few months we had together were the most incredible affirmation of my soul that I've ever experienced in my life. We both believed we were meant to be together so fervently -- that's why we knew each other as children.
I know that because of all the horrible experiences you've had in your life, that you would require years of therapy to ever want to open your heart and trust someone ever again. I thought I could have been that person. And I could have, maybe, if I had gotten therapy with you, and if a lot of other fucked up things hadn't happened, many of which were beyond our control.
I feel like I've been cheated. Cheated by life. Cheated by God. Call me an idiot if you want, but I had the one true love I'd been waiting for since I was 10 years old -- for a few months, only to have it snatched away from me forever. You've shut down emotionally. And because of my own horrific pain, I lashed out in anger and destroyed any possibility that you'd ever want to even talk to me again. I was like an animal with his foot caught in a trap. And I have to live with the loss of you for the rest of my life. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.
I wish I could wind back the clock to the very beginning, erase entirely the last six months and start over, completely fresh, so that I could show you the real me, instead of the fucked up vision of me you'll now carry around forever. I am NOT who you think I am.
But I can't. And you won't. And it's over. And THAT SUCKS.
We will both die without ever knowing, you and I. Without ever really knowing what we could have been for each other. That is the cruelest joke the universe could have played, and it waited 35 years to deliver it's horrible punchline.
Why, honey...? Why did this happen to us...?
I guess we'll never know.
|Jesus says: Thank you for confessing, my child. I, umm, grant you pardon and peace. But one quick question: Doesn't it disturb you that her name is Bambi?|
I miss a David too, and I know he thinks I don't, but it is possible to love someone and not be able to be with them because they are emotionally unstable. In that respect, it's harder on me than on him, because I see how it can't work and he doesn't, but there is still love there. My heart is breaking for everyone tonight---all these sad posts. You know what would make me feel better? If someone would notice me on a GODDAMNED STREET CORNER/SUBWAY TRAIN/BUS STOP/KEITH MCNALLY RESTAURANT/IAN SCHRAGER HOTEL! I mean, this is why we all read this site, right? Will this ever happen? Or do I have to read about everyone else getting noticed on The Black Table.com for the rest of my life?
|Jesus says: It is good that you have confessed. Look, you even got noticed by The Black Table.|
And now, for some confessions of my own:
Merika* -- I hate it when you leave the shower curtain open. It doesn't air out, and it gets moldy. I know this is anal, but it makes me crazy on the inside. So crazy, I find myself dreaming up ways to kill you when I see the shower curtain open. Don't worry, I'm not really going to kill you. And really, I do know it's anal of me. And crazy. Yet, when I see that shower curtain open, getting all moldy and stinky and gross, kill is what I want to do.
Bill* -- I stole 75 cents from your change jar one time. I was hungover, and I really wanted Pop Tarts. I love Pop Tarts. They drive me to passionate, crazed acts, such as stealing 75 cents from your change jar.
Fristen* -- I think that I may have stopped rubbing Benny for a minute while Jeff Weaver was pitching on Wednesday night and I'm pretty sure that is the reason why Alex Gonzalez hit that homer in the 12th inning. I had been drinking for six hours at that point, and I lost my focus. I am so, so sorry.
*Names have been changed.
Jesus Says: You're going to Hell. You're fucked, Blair.
Amy Blair is eager to be called horrible names on Craig's List. Bring it.