It astounds me at times how much shit has to go down before I learn lessons. When I was a child I was born into a family that had nothing of value to offer me. I learned early that at least I could trust my grandparents, and if I wanted an example of how to be a decent human being I should look to them, not my parents. On top of their lessons to work hard and look after yourself, christianity seemed like a good deal. I was obsessesed with being a good person, so the image of jesus I was sold fit the bill nicely.
On a bedrock I started to build my own little world, my own house of how life should be, a strong fortress in the chaos of my family. My world was built on idealism and love, and the thought we could make everything better if we cared enough, and loved enough. Over the years I added extensions to my inner house, beliefs that people were basically good and kind, and wanted to be nice to each other. This helped me to cope with the soul crushing depression that had been with me since my teenage years, a counter balance to all the shit I felt and saw in the world. My belief in love protected me from losing my mind completely, even though I cried a lot because something deep in my unconscious knew the truth, the truth that others did not value me the way I valued them.
A lot of things have happened in my life to beat me down, to send volleys at the house I built, and for many years I resisted all of them. I stood in my house, resolute that no matter how much shit I saw, how much hurt I felt, that I was right in my perceptions, and that if only other people cared like I did that everything would be okay.
Over time though, I started to notice cracks in the walls of my house, but I chose to ignore them, sure that it was just a small problem and I could sort it out easily. As I let go of christianity, the cracks got bigger and bigger, and I started to realise how much of my house was built on my christian beliefs. I thought though that my house would still stand, and that I could make my new beliefs fit my house. What emerged though is that because my house was made of love, as more and more people withdrew from me because I was no longer a christian nor a door mat, parts of my house started to fall off. A door here, a window there, bits just started disappearing, who section just weren't there any more. It was built on beliefs, beliefs that I had value in other people's eyes the way they did in mine.
As the truth hit home, the devastation began. I tried so hard to keep my illusions, but as my life progressed and I became older, things became more and more clear. I have wasted myself on people. Wasted my love and my care and my integrity, invested emotionally in idiots who cared only for themselves.
Now my house has gone, disappeared into the wind, and now I have noticed an even more curious thing. My daughter has not spoken to me in almost a year. That has been the death blow to any illusions of love I may ever have had. I spent decades loving this girl and giving her the things I never had, and now I am surplus to requirements. Now I am starting to fade away just like my house. Everyday when I look in the mirror I am more faded than the day before. It is like in movies when the person turns to dust, and they just blow away in the wind. Everything I ever knew or felt or cared about is gone, and I sit in the ruins of my life, knowing that no one I have invested in could care less about me. I feel like it has all been a waste. If love isn't real and doesn't work, nothing has any meaning.