When I took this picture I wanted to focus mostly on Mr. Monkey Miserable – the one head-to tree trunk, looking pathetic. I said to my friend, “that’s how I feel. That’s me.” But, really it was how I had been feeling since last Wednesday almost a week before. When you can’t bang your head against the wall anymore you tend to lean against it in tired defeat. That was me, myself and moi. Leaning. Exhausted.
I am not good with shifting relationships. I tend to get away from them before they get to me. Every boyfriend I’ve ever had (save one) has been dumped by me, myself & moi in the most pitiful yet creative of ways. Even friendships have gone by the wayside when I can’t find a healthy way to keep them going. Whispering “mea culpa, mea culpa ” as I slowly back out the door, I leave them all. One way or another I find a way to leave.
I’m not used to the instability of hatred. The unfair rockiness of “it’s not you, yet…” That yet is what has me bitter and broken. Years of a relationship, a partnership and friendship are wiped away in the second it takes to state “I’m leaving.” In the blink of an eye and a blank stare the tables are turned and I’m on the wrong side of the dealing hand. People tell me I should be happy, but I hurt.
Oblivious to companionship, Mr. Monkey Miserable sits alone, head banged against his tree. Maybe he is praying. Maybe he is laughing. Maybe he is no worse than me.