But You Hold His Heart In The Palm Of Your Hand, And It's Breaking Mine In Two, 'Cause I'm The Fool In Love With The Fool Who's Still In Love With You
--"The Fool", Lee Ann Womack
--al'Lan Mandragoran to Nynaeve al'Mearam, The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan
I've never actually fought with the guy. Indeed, except for a few words spoken after failing to attend their wedding, I've hardly spoken to him since he's come into Breanne's life. He's never personally injured me or, for that matter, spoken ill of me except in cases where it was warranted. He's never spread vicious lies about or exaggerated about me to anyone who would listen. In fact, I've been more the guilty party about blowing up his faults to epic proportions and pointing out the teensiest of his errors. Yet, despite all that, I still have to reach the same conclusion.
I hate Greg.
I won't even qualify that. I won't temper that by saying my ire runs to a deep dislike or a quarrelsome annoyance. I hate the guy. I hate him with a passion. Of anyone I've ever known, he is the one person I have wished the most ill will towards in my lifetime. If I were to see him on the street, I don't know what I'd do to him. I really don't. I know it's irrational and probably unhealthy to harbor such an ill-placed distaste for another human being, but in the psychology of love and life, he represents the "other." He's my scapegoat. He's my excuse for everything that is wrong in my life. He's the reason to blame when there aren't any reasons left.
On second thought, I actually have a good reason why I can say I hate him. Anyone who can make my friend, my little sister, cry so often and about so many different things doesn't deserve to live. I don't care if he's her husband and I don't care if he could accuse me of manufacturing the much same misery for her, that in itself is a reason to hate. It's a reason I hate myself sometimes, because I have that capacity for cruelty lodged somewhere inside of me. Like Brandy says, we often hate the most in other people what we see in ourselves and, to me, Greg represents everything that has ever let down Breanne in her life. He's the person who was lucky enough to be with her, who never quite can make her happy. He's the one she pinned her hopes upon (instead of me) and with whom they never quite came to fruition. He's the one who was supposed to be her fairy-tale ending, but instead brought her crashing back down to reality. For that I'll never forgive him.
Maybe it isn't him. Maybe I was destined to hate any guy that she ended up with that wasn't me, but he's that mystery model put into flesh. He's not the theory of the other guy; he actually is the other guy. And that is why I hate him, because he's not the guy that Breanne used to ask me advice about in high school or college, trying to gauge how she should proceed. He's not the one of the men I used to grow frequently jealous about, wondering what might happen in the future if the two of them should hit it off. He's the nightmare made real. He's the worst fear realized. He's the boogeyman came to life. He is the truth of the matter that can never be changed and can never dismissed away.
This is her life as it stands now. She's with him.
Which means this is my life as it stands now. I'm not with her.
I'm only saying this because she's on her way back. Marriage repaired. Smile back on her face, she's ready to return the fold a happily married woman again. And I really am happy for her. I haven't heard speak so grandly about married life since she was a newlywed. It's nice to hear that young spark of life, that sound of the child of fire she's always been, in her voice again. It makes me believe she's well on her way to fully recovering her life and shaping it to what she always wanted. I can be happy for her while at the same time ruing the cause of her happiness, can't I?
Perhaps there isn't a good reason to hate him. Perhaps my animosity stems from somewhere childlike and immature, wishing woe on anyone who takes away my favorite toy. Perhaps the lesson to be learned here is that if you're going to hold a grudge against someone it should be for something substantial. You shouldn't go around loathing someone without just cause. I really have no just cause for any of it.
Except.
Except he is the one who stole her away from me and that is the best and only just cause one will ever need.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
I will hate the man you choose because he is not me, and love him if he makes you smile.
--al'Lan Mandragoran to Nynaeve al'Mearam, The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan
I've never actually fought with the guy. Indeed, except for a few words spoken after failing to attend their wedding, I've hardly spoken to him since he's come into Breanne's life. He's never personally injured me or, for that matter, spoken ill of me except in cases where it was warranted. He's never spread vicious lies about or exaggerated about me to anyone who would listen. In fact, I've been more the guilty party about blowing up his faults to epic proportions and pointing out the teensiest of his errors. Yet, despite all that, I still have to reach the same conclusion.
I hate Greg.
I won't even qualify that. I won't temper that by saying my ire runs to a deep dislike or a quarrelsome annoyance. I hate the guy. I hate him with a passion. Of anyone I've ever known, he is the one person I have wished the most ill will towards in my lifetime. If I were to see him on the street, I don't know what I'd do to him. I really don't. I know it's irrational and probably unhealthy to harbor such an ill-placed distaste for another human being, but in the psychology of love and life, he represents the "other." He's my scapegoat. He's my excuse for everything that is wrong in my life. He's the reason to blame when there aren't any reasons left.
On second thought, I actually have a good reason why I can say I hate him. Anyone who can make my friend, my little sister, cry so often and about so many different things doesn't deserve to live. I don't care if he's her husband and I don't care if he could accuse me of manufacturing the much same misery for her, that in itself is a reason to hate. It's a reason I hate myself sometimes, because I have that capacity for cruelty lodged somewhere inside of me. Like Brandy says, we often hate the most in other people what we see in ourselves and, to me, Greg represents everything that has ever let down Breanne in her life. He's the person who was lucky enough to be with her, who never quite can make her happy. He's the one she pinned her hopes upon (instead of me) and with whom they never quite came to fruition. He's the one who was supposed to be her fairy-tale ending, but instead brought her crashing back down to reality. For that I'll never forgive him.
Maybe it isn't him. Maybe I was destined to hate any guy that she ended up with that wasn't me, but he's that mystery model put into flesh. He's not the theory of the other guy; he actually is the other guy. And that is why I hate him, because he's not the guy that Breanne used to ask me advice about in high school or college, trying to gauge how she should proceed. He's not the one of the men I used to grow frequently jealous about, wondering what might happen in the future if the two of them should hit it off. He's the nightmare made real. He's the worst fear realized. He's the boogeyman came to life. He is the truth of the matter that can never be changed and can never dismissed away.
This is her life as it stands now. She's with him.
Which means this is my life as it stands now. I'm not with her.
I'm only saying this because she's on her way back. Marriage repaired. Smile back on her face, she's ready to return the fold a happily married woman again. And I really am happy for her. I haven't heard speak so grandly about married life since she was a newlywed. It's nice to hear that young spark of life, that sound of the child of fire she's always been, in her voice again. It makes me believe she's well on her way to fully recovering her life and shaping it to what she always wanted. I can be happy for her while at the same time ruing the cause of her happiness, can't I?
Perhaps there isn't a good reason to hate him. Perhaps my animosity stems from somewhere childlike and immature, wishing woe on anyone who takes away my favorite toy. Perhaps the lesson to be learned here is that if you're going to hold a grudge against someone it should be for something substantial. You shouldn't go around loathing someone without just cause. I really have no just cause for any of it.
Except.
Except he is the one who stole her away from me and that is the best and only just cause one will ever need.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
Labels: Breanne, Greg, Hatred, Jealousy, Lee Ann Womack
posted by mojo shivers @ 12:01 AM
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