BitterSome things are just crushing in this life, and they are nearly always things that others choose for me, rather than what I choose. Indeed, I rarely get to choose to have what I want, when it really matters. Others get to choose that, and for whatever reason, that has rarely been good for me.
So I have been disappointed and the monkey is dancing in his cage. He knows why it hurts. I am not enough.
I was not enough of a son for my dad to want to make sacrifices for me when I was a kid; not enough of a boyfriend for the women I loved not to chuck me when it became difficult; not enough of a husband to be worth cherishing; not enough of a friend to be worth keeping; not enough of a lover to want to, well, whatever lovers are supposed to do when they are star crossed.
My whole life is a long series of lessons in not being enough for the people in my life. I want to be wonderful, inspiring. I guess we all do. We all feel we are special.
But I am always disappointing, leaden where you hope I'll be gold, a seeming bad bet that no one wants to roll the dice on.
And I don't blame them. I am not worth gambling on. I've never gambled on myself, so why would anyone else bother? I can rationalise it all I like, that I have a side that wants me to fail, that undermines me, but the truth is, I am just a leaden, dull person and I am having what that brings you. I thought the wrong, the foolish part of me was the monkey, but really, the fool is the deluded clown who sees gold in a core that is empty, bitter and cold.