Okay, so I just have to get this out of my system. Those of you who know me know that I am a venter. And if I don't write my feelings down and expose myself emotionally for the whole world to see, well, as you and I both know, I just won't ever get over her. This is my desperate and dire reach out for therapeutic relief. For you see, this post is about the love of my life. She and I go way back. In fact, I can remember her being a part of my life since before I can remember (the fuzzy memories of her at my side have been materialized into reality because of the numerous home videos of when I was 2) and I can't even fathom life without her. We were, and fortunately still are, joined at the hip (but I desperately ask, "For how much longer?"). Oh how I fondly reminisce of the days where we would run through the grassy fields, go on bike rides together, and heck, we would even wear matching clothes just to be cute. Yes, we were that type of couple. But a few months ago, she tried to leave me, and our relationship has been a bit rocky ever since. We have tried to mend the past and move on with our lives like any respectable couple does in these types of situations, but our relationship is still broken. Trust me, I can feel it in my bones. We are not on the same step stride for stride like we used to be, and I can still feel a tinge of a fracture that is causing constant and dire pain in our relationship. My darling's name is Sheila, and I am proud to say she is still the love of my life. Sheila also happens to be my right leg.
You see, the trouble started on a very tragic November 1st morning. To me everything seemed fine and peachy. Our relationship seemed to be running smoothly and life could not of been more grand. We were playing soccer together that morning and even though my two best friends Bill and Jerry (my right and left hands) were about as effective at stopping the soccer ball from flying into the goal as the french were at stopping Germany in WWII, Sheila and I were amazing together. Oh how she seldom let me down. But then something unexpected happened that I could of never foreseen. A big, strong, no good-for-nothing meat head of a soccer player came out of now where from the impending darkness and tried desperately to rip her apart from me! And and in her moment of faithlessness she almost gave in. Oh how I screamed at the realization and pain that was afflicted and thrust upon me in her moment of pure weakness! Oh, how this reality hurt me so! I couldn't believe what had transpired. How could I? I could not bear to look at her with my physical eyes, for I knew the ghastly sight would just sicken me so! I continued to scream my heart out, hoping that mental shock would over take me. But shock would never come, only cruel fate, as I had to live through this frightening and merciless experience. Yes, later morphine would dull the pain, but never the memory.
Oh Sheila, where did I go wrong? Was it the time I unexpectedly shaved only half of you bald and made you a laughing stock? I was weak, and I am sorry. But at least I gave you covering so no one could see your frightful appearance. And I was a bored 20 year old with nothing to do at 10:30 at night in Pennsylvania. Can you blame me? Or is it how I always point out how much hair you have and frequently compare you to a gorilla? Come now Sheila, it is only in jest. And I only jest those I love.
We can only rely on therapy now to mend us back together. Pray this pain you have caused me will go away like a feather in the wind, never to be seen from again. I will forgive you, in time...