Wednesday, September 22, 2010
no. 043 [A]
"Kylie From Connecticut" by Ben Folds
I don't think I'll ever be able to get it. To me it's like a foreign language, I just don't understand. How can someone just turn their back on somebody that they supposedly love? It's not something I can understand right now, and hopefully never will.
I like to think that if you are truly in love with someone that cheating is something that would never cross your mind. Whether it be the thought of you yourself giving into temptation, or your partner.
To me there are two big things that are unforgivable in this world. The first is infidelity, the second...remaining idle when you know you're being wronged. So I sit on the sidelines not rooting for either side, but rather hating each of them for very different reasons.
It's something that I knew I would have to face, or at least revisit. Now more than ever, as the clock winds down, a few days removed from the anniversary of an uninteresting event, that night in Sacramento reminds me of the pain he must feel, and how much I hate him for sitting there, quietly, hoping, waiting, wishing, as if this will pass over like some sort of bad storm. Yet I sit there on the sidelines, biting my tongue, mouth full of blood, because it's not my place to say a thing. So I sit, and watch the battle unfold, as it destroys them both, piece by tattered piece. But what for? For a thrill? For a change of pace? Did this life that you chose become too mundane? Is it a thrill to change things up? Is there another spark there that you just can't ignore? Or is it something else? Do you fear you made a mistake?
They say the grass is always greener, but I think we should attend to our own gardens, and leave the flowers of others alone.
Day after day, I know that he knows, as she tends to a garden that is nowhere near the vicinity of the foundation that they built together. A choice they both very much had a hand in, yet, she makes a choice of her own, one on the side that could shake what they built to the very core, but does she think of the outcome? Does she even care about the consequences?
I look at him with disgust, because in many ways he reminds me of myself. Yet I can't help it, I hate him for being so quiet, almost as much as I hate her for what she is doing to him. Maybe I don't know the whole story, maybe part of me doesn't want to know. You need to know all sides of the story to be a good journalist...but that's not my role in this play.
Everyone plays their parts, the victim, the other man, the poor soul. And me? Well, consider me the fool on the hill, just watching.
I just don't get it. I can't. Is there any feasible reason as to why infidelity should even be a choice when you say that you are in love? And if you're not in love, isn't it easier just to admit it, end it, and do things the right way? But who is to say what's right and what's not? But if this weren't so wrong, why does it hurt so much, not just the poor soul, not just the wife of the other man, not just the victim (considering of course that she has a soul), but so many others that are pulled into the play, the extras, loved ones, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters.
And as the play unfolds maybe there is no happy ending. Because how can you move on after something so unforgivable? Maybe you can't, and you just sit there, and watch...like the fool on the hill.