A little Queen day, can you say drama queen?

“Love of my life- you’ve hurt me

You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me

Love of my life can’t you see

Bring it back, bring it back

Don’t take it away from me because you don’t know, what it means to me

Love of my life don’t leave me

You’ve stolen my love and now desert me

Love of my life can’t you see

Bring it back, bring it back

Don’t take it away from me

Because you don’t know what it means to me.

You’ll remember when this is blown over and everything’s all by the way

When I grow older I will be there at your side to remind you

How I still love you, I still love you

Back, hurry back please bring it back home to me

Because you don’t know, what it means to me.

Love of my life, love of my life..ooh, ooh, oooh.”

“Insane should be put inside you’re a sewer rat decaying in a cesspool of pride.

Death on two legs you’re tearing me apart, death on two legs you never had a heart of your own. Kill joy, bad guy, big talking small fry. You’re just an old barrow boy, have you found a new toy to replace me, can you face me, now you can kiss my ass goodbye.

Are you satisfied? Dog with disease you’re the king of the sleaze, Mr. Know-all was the fin on your back part of the deal (SHARK).”

“Good morning” I say to one of my favorite students with the mustered acting ability that I can conjure up from the depths of my inner being thanking god, or the powers that be that I have had many acting lessons. My student responds with “whatever.” I appreciate the candor. I know she didn’t mean it derogatory towards me. I knew she was just expressing really how she felt, and she was much more diplomatic than I was thinking, am thinking, when someone gives me a genuine “Good morning” and I want to retort back with an even more genuine, “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

I have now realized the lessons I previously learned of heartbreak, that no matter how much you hurt and think that it couldn’t possibly be worse, don’t fool yourself because it can, and it will.

The most difficult aspect to deal with and admit to is the fact that we are alone on this earth. Who ever wrote “No man is an island” was fucking delusional. Everyman is an island and everyman stands alone because no matter how much we’d like to deceive ourselves into thinking that people are good, that people care, the bottom line is that everyone is selfish and greedy and they look out for only themselves, and will stick a knife in your back, spit in your face and piss on your bleeding corpse to get what they want. Noah it’s time to build the arc again. The bottom line, and let me repeat this over and over, ditto, ditto and ditto into infinity, is you cannot trust anyone, ever. No one has your back. No one.

Within the depths of my despair not even over dramatized for entertainment value, the abyss, I once thought I could wallow out of has swallowed me whole. I am drowning and I know that I am the only who can pull myself out. If that someone gives me a hand to save me will he smack me back down again and turn around and piss in the hole? I know I cannot trust. I will never be the same person I was; it’s a death of sorts. The death and mortification of my spirit. I am grieving the person I was, grieving the casualty of my soul, the deepest most precious part of my character.

What makes it even worse is someone chose to do this to me. Death would have been easier to deal with as it for most purposes is not a choice. But to make a conscience decision to massacre someone’s core being is reprehensible, maybe unforgivable.

I cannot trust my family, or my best friends. My son will fuck me over and leave me someday too; it’s only a matter of time as I have loss the belief that people are good. People are inherently greedy, self preserving; self satisfaction will always prevail. Darwin would be proud.

One thing I know is humans cannot live without touch. I am sure they can go on breathing, but they lose their souls. It is a well known fact that infants cannot survive without human touch in the formative years. Adults cannot either. Not real complete survival. What I need now is to be touched. My body at least, for I no longer have a soul that can be reached. If there is anything left of my soul at all.

The song lyrics come from one of my favorite albums, “A Night at the Opera” by Queen.