The Man That Ruined My Life
Posted on August 22, 2011
The Man That Ruined My Life
He stands before me with eyes bloodshot from too much hard living. Bastard doesn’t even acknowledge my presence so it seems. But I know that he knows I am here. I’m always here. I always come back to him no matter what.
He is aging. Rapidly. His eyes, as I have stated, are bloodshot. The kind of bloodshot that scares little kids when they look up at him as he stumbles along in his perpetual drunken stupor. Lines have formed at the corners of those chaotically enhanced red eyes. Lines that slowly blend into other lines that etch his face as if carved by an angry artist with a chisel gone mad. His hair is fading to gray as well as falling out like soldiers under fire. You can almost hear the crash as the strands that leap to their death hit the ground. He has developed a slight twitch, or spasm if you prefer, in the left corner of his mouth. I also notice the hardness of his unshaven jaw. A hardness that has grown through the agony of traveling through the time of his life. His hands shake even though he struggles to keep that from me. Perhaps so that he will show no sign of weakness in my presence or perhaps it is pride. Whichever, it is irrelevant for I do notice it. He stands with shoulders slumped. I do not even think he can carry them high anymore like he did in his boisterous youth. He has become an enbattled veteran of the war against aging and he is losing said war. Unfortunately.
I should feel sorrow for his condition, but I do not. I only feel a deep loathing. A loathing for all the things this breathing carcass has done to me. It is a disgust so deep that I could rip out his heart and not mind the blood dripping down upon my shoes. I would scream at him, but his hearing weakens daily. I feel like striking him, but the boniness of his body would probably hurt me more than it would him. I could walk away I suppose. However, I do not like turning my back on him. I do not trust him. And besides, I have tried before and failed too many times to count.
He was never really there for me, but he also never would leave me alone either. I think he stuck around just to see me falter. Whenever life’s little tests would come my way, his advice…when he actually gave it….always turned out to be useless. He would always find ways to drag me down into the muck of his tormented little world. No matter how I tried to rise above him, he would grab hold of me, in one way or another, and pull me beneath the waves of despair that he floundered within. My life has become a preposterous fallacy due to his mendacious antics.
I do not know how much longer I can take this. But I know myself, and what he has molded me into, and I will continue to take it. Over and over again.
I stare right on through him and he stares back through me. Neither of us seeing the other. Only seeing what we would like the other to become. Knowing that it will never happen.
His eyes look into mine. I look away in contempt and in shame.