Cliché / Bully

“Who wants that perfect love story anyway?” -Beyoncé on Jay-Z’s Part II

I have gotten caught up on the Magna Carta album hard body. I love the beats and music. And the lyrics. I am so attracted to understanding the thoughts of folks who seemingly have it all. I think I try to understand what goes through their minds as the world follows them having whatever they want. I try understand why them over others. The answers usually fall somewhere between talent/ skill and charisma. Admittedly Jay has both to me. I watch his interviews like he is this ethereal someone who has stepped down from an unreachable perch to address the rabble. And somewhere in my current admiration, I stumbled upon B’s tumblr. It’s been around for a whole but I try to curb my worship to a few times a year. Flipping through seemingly normal pics of her in front of fences and visiting exotic and rare locations on “vacation”, I saw some pics of her and her husband together. Really together. He touches her like he still wants her and loves her. They pose (or not) and the love just exudes from them both. They seem to mean it. Neither one of them are actors for real so it would be so difficult for them to feign the level of admiration and excitement about each other that jumps off the pictures. There was only so much I could look through. I felt myself getting so emotional. Jealous. Pure. Not just admiration. Just…. Damn…. They have THAT too?? Money. Fame. Family. AND real love / passion ?? Why them and not anyone else? Why them up in the stratosphere and not me? I don’t have a resolution for this feeling. I just wanted to document and get it out of my head. Part of me, the hopeless romantic, is happy that it seems possible still. I was there the night they met. How did the magic miss me? I can’t fix it.

I chatted with someone I dealt with a dog’s age ago… I always try to gain understanding about things that happened in the past. Gives me perspective about what I’ve gone through and go through. He took special pains to express to me that he felt I was a bully / bossy / mean. I imposed my will on the relationship and he was held at my mercy for the decisions I would make and that he may or may not have. Decisions I made for him that he felt he didn’t have a say in whether or not I actuated them. That I was as mean as I was sweet. But maybe the mean ultimately outweighed the sweet. Because it was all he could conjure up from his recollection of what I thought was our love. Was that everyone’s perspective that I have dealt with? Or was it that by the time he got to me I was all jaded over on how to deal with another human? That I internalized the hurts he dealt out with my perceived apathy and spit it back at him so that when he recounts the story of our brief life, he is granted the license to paint me as a tyrant. I said to him that his portrayal of me hurt my feelings. I’m not sure it made a difference this far after the fact. But I get to carry that now and believe that it’s all the reasons that I am NOT worthy of the glorious stratosphere that I yearn for.

Bullies never win. I should own it. Instead of seeing myself as some nice sweet victim of circumstance.

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