Letter to Karma

Dear Karma,

You've got to be kidding me, right? This gotta be one of your absurd, really surreal little jokes; just to see how long I'll take it before I break, before you can go set everything right again, and everything can just go back to normal. Why do you have to play all the songs we used to listen to, that he used to play, that he used to tell me about? Why do you have to slap me in the face with memories that I don't want to forget? Why did you make me believe everything was alright and dandy, that as long as we had eachother it would work out, as long as I had him, and he was my most important cornerstone. Life without him didn't exist, I got too attached, what should I have done, you suggest? Should I have loved him less? Should I have tried being someone else? Should I have been walking around suspiciously and prepared myself to be left, as if that would be easier?
Would it have made any difference?
Everything, I see now, it's connected, the point of it all to play me a miserable joke. You should know, of all people, that I'm not really very strong. I'm not really very powerful. I've been able to move on every time by chance and endurance, by naivety. Did you really think that would last?
If this is a joke, then quit playing around, I get it now, okay, just make it stop.
I don't know what I'm supposed to be learning. Maybe not to love anyone. Maybe to not let someone that close. But why? I chose very carefully when trusting him, and I did what I could to safeguard myself, but eventually I really fell, and fell hard, what should I be learning?
You seem to want to make sex the most pitiful thing for me, always connecting it to misery, to anticipating disaster. While I have friends who find sex important in a relationship I wish I'd never have to have it. Last relationship, the one I keep telling myself I am still in, was okay, it wasn't filled with angst, I started to view it almost normally. Then you go on in and mark it down as the last time we were together, before it all broke up, what kind of joke is that?
How can you serve me everything on a platter, after I'd been fighting and growing stronger by every disaster that hit me, how can you give it all to me then and makebelieve that I'm happy just to rip it all away again when I start to believe you?
You're fucking unbelievable, you know that?
I'm not even angry yet, like usually I'd always be; I'm just blank and tired and nothing feels fun anymore. Everything is twice the struggle as before - why? What did I do that was so bad, what did I do that I still have to pay for, what was it you think I haven't learnt enough from yet?
How do you suppose I'd ever trust anyone again? When someone who leaves me notes by my bed one day and leaves me the second is the truth I'm trying to face here.
I'm still like a huge question mark. Everything, the last 7-8 months, spinning over and over in my head. What went wrong? What did I do? What didn't I do? Cause there simply has to be a reason it ended, has to be something valid; how could I live with myself while knowing nothing happened for a reason and everything was meaningless?
Is that what you are trying to say? That nothing is meaningful? Fuck you, you know I been down those lines already, you know I already been thinking all those things, why the fuck would I wanna go there again? Can't you leave me be, haven't you done all your damage already? Just when I started to think again, to feel again, I was convinced that it'd be alright, we'd work it out, as long as we were together... and now I stand here with nothing. And no cornerstone.
Is that it? That I scared him away being depressed? What then do you want me to do, never show the truth to anyone I know, never to talk to him about things weighing on me, who else was I supposed to talk to? Did I put too much of my burden on him? Was it impossible for him to bear?
Well then I suppose you should be happy that I booked a therapist's appointment, I'm gonna spill all my heart out to a stranger, because you took my love away. Whenever I see him again, when I decide that long enough time has gone by without us speaking, I'll tell him, and we'll see. But what you gonna reward me for? I can bet already it won't help, it won't bring him back. You'll just say I didn't try hard enough, I only did this to get him back and not to help myself... but why couldn't I do both? Why couldn't I have him there while I tried helping myself, wouldn't I eventually learn the same thing?
I don't want to view all love as something painful, something dark that never turns out right; I want to be one of those believing love can withstand anything, that it wins even in death. But those words are just glorious while written, not in the everyday life, what we have to pull ourselves through daily and that we have to bear with. It's difficult, okay; it's fucking difficult enough as it is; are you getting some kick out of torturing me this way?
Do you really want me to go on some happy pills and then settle for that, and try to win back Rockstar while I do; while you know he's not going to change his mind?

I want to believe he would. I want to believe that just if I said the right words, if I just let him be by himself, if I just... fixed things... we'd be together again, we'd forget everything. I never felt this panic with someone else. Everyone is telling me to move on from it, but they're not the ones with the lumps in their throats, with their darkness in their hearts, with their panic pressing on their lungs. I'm desperate and I just want to forget everything, to have that go away, all the bad things...

Do you have any idea how close I came to calling him? Do you have any idea how difficult it was not to? I felt ready to die there and then, losing faith, losing all. I just wanted to hear his voice again, but in the end I was too scared.

Too scared that his voice would be the same, but unrecognizable; that he'd be saying things I wouldn't want to hear. That he'd tell me to fuck off and never call again, that he would let me know I was bothering him, that he'd once again say the words I just don't love you anymore.

I don't want to live this way anymore. Thursday couldn't come sooner and nor could November 20th, the day I vowed to myself we'd talk again.
POET in the BREAKING JAR