Unfounded Belief: A Soliloquy

This little monologue/narration goes hand in hand with my work in progress and was fueled by my overworked brain, Starbucks, and Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black Album. I hope you enjoy both the story and the music.


But why did it have to be me? Why did you have to choose me for this nonsense? Nearly a year, though the past three months I’ve kept my distance. I really did love you, but I couldn’t commit myself to you because I could sense what was really going on. Not that it took that much sensing. There was one thing that threw me for a loop. You wanted me to commit to you when you were already committed to someone else, not only in title but on paper. I hate a liar.

I wanted to give everything to you. Everything. When we came together as one it felt so good. I never wanted to separate from you. You fit me perfectly. I knew you couldn’t be mine, though. No matter how much I wanted you to be. The circumstances just weren’t in my favor. I guess I could look at the “bright side” if there is one. What is that quote? How does it go? “It is better to have lost and loved than never to have loved at all.” Yeah. Bullshit.

I could’ve done without all of this. I gave you the benefit of a doubt. I loved you. And once again I am wondering, why me? Why is it never me who is chosen to be the “special” one? Why am I always the one to get my heart broken? I’ve dismissed a couple of good ones in the past, but I thought I had done my dance with karma already and had moved past all of that. I could commit a hideous, heinous crime right now without regret or remorse just because what little heart I had has now been disintegrated. Demolished. Destroyed. It no longer exists. It blew away in the wind I stirred up the last time I walked away from you because I could sense what was wrong.

And that dream—that dream I had recently—told it all, but I was hoping, praying, attempting to manifest the falsehood in that dream. Dismiss it as just a dream, the workings of my brain cells in REM as my body rehabilitated and reenergized. I felt it coming. The day my heart would officially be broken by you. I tried to dismiss it. Not give it any thought or attention. Not to feed it. But my fears blossomed anyway and now I am here asking the question, why me? Oh, I’ll get over the anger eventually. Remind myself that I am good enough. Remember that, indeed, I am good enough and was probably too good for you to begin with. I just thought that you were better.  Still, in all the hope I had in your sincerity, I am saddened. When you chose another to hold the spot that you said was reserved for me, my spirit died.  

Believe

© LeTara Moore, All Rights Reserved

 

 

 

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