This blog post diverges from my norm. For once, it has nothing to do with writing, Blue Ruin, or being an author. It has to do with life, the everyday struggles and occurences. It has to do with being a person. A human being. 

In the real world, I am a Registered Nurse. My job is about people. I am the earth, my patients are the sun, and I revolve around them. Being a nurse means you come second. To everything. That’s the way it is and that’s the way it should be. My patients’ lives depend on me. And as a nurse, I have met more people than I can comprehend. Some I will never forget. Others I wish I could. I’ve seen the good in people and I’ve seen the evil. Rest-assured, there’s more good than evil out there. 

But…it just takes that one person to shatter that belief — to make you feel as though finding a decent human being is like finding a needle in a haystack. 

I’m young. Naive. I still live with the belief that people will treat you the way they would want to be treated. And in my personal life, it surprises me how many people would want to be treated like shit. I was raised to respect others. To be the bigger person, whether that meant admitting when I was wrong, apologizing when I didn’t want to, or being kind when I would rather spew a tangle of profanities and then punch someone in the face, walking away with a wide smile. And for some reason, I still think that everyone else thinks this way. I can’t say I’m surprised when someone proves to be the opposite. But, I can’t help but feel disappointed — that this person shattered the image of what I thought they were, to become something I’d hoped they weren’t. Another asshole. 

I’ve had my fair share of romances. Boyfriends here and there, most of them long-term. Though, at the age of 23, I feel as if I have lived one-hundred lifetimes because of them. No one ever tells you how a relationship will age you both mentally and emotionally. In relationship years, I’m about 500. I’ve dated every kind of person there is (expect for a nice one). Had it all. Done it all. Experienced it all. And with each new relationship, I feel myself losing a little more faith in people. 

Of course, they all started out fantastic. We would go out on dates. He’d smile. I’d laugh. Conversations would get deeper, personal stories shared. Attraction developed into love. I’d find myself head-over-heels. And then something changes. The wind shifts with an oncoming storm. The beginning of the relationship suddenly becomes an illusion. 

Fuck. Not again. 

How a relationship ends speaks louder than how the relationship went. Something about “the end” brings out a person’s true colors. Dark colors. Ugly colors. Which is why I’ve always tried to stay true to my personal belief, “treat others as you would want to be treated”. Look, no one wants to be dumped. But, it happens, and hopefully for the better. I’ve been on both ends of the break-up. The dumper. And the dumpee. I don’t envy or prefer one over the other. Regardless of which position I find myself in, I don’t want to walk away with the other person hating me or hating themselves because I said something I shouldn’t have said. Yet, the same courtesy is never extended to me, but I still foolishy expect it to be. I’ve left break-ups hating the other person, hating myself, to the point where I wouldn’t look in the mirror because all I saw was what that person told me I was. 

I can handle being called a bitch by strangers. But there’s something about a significant other saying it to you that digs the knife a little deeper, twists it a little harder. They never just say, “you’re a bitch.” They say it in a million different ways that brings a million different kinds of pain. “I wish I never met you”, “You never cared about me”, but my personal favorite is, “I don’t care what happens to you.” Ah, that line. It’s been thrown at me by every guy I’ve ever dated. And after so many times, it still cuts deep like a sharp knife. The words themselves don’t cause the pain, but the substance behind them — that a person could so quicky and willingly contradict everything they’d once said, that they really could mean what they say, that they will stop caring when I won’t. 

Ever since my first break-up when I was a young teenager, I’ve been trying to find the answer to my question, how could a person be so cruel to another human being? With each guy, with each relationship, with each break-up, I feel further away from the answer than when I began. I become more and more mystified, and it becomes a struggle to believe that there are good people out there. People like me, who believe in the same belief that I do. And my faith deteriorates more and more. 

But with time, those bad seeds fall to the back, covered with all of the good seeds I’ve come across as a nurse, a student, a writer. A human being. And the wild garden that is my life, flourishes beautifully, making it difficult to spot the bad that had been planted. Life is once again beautiful. 

And, of course, I take great comfort in karma. 

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