"Ah fuck, April"

So it hit me today, and when I say hit I mean a sudden, painful and quite badly timed realisation, that April is upon me, or upon us. Now April is of significance for a few reasons. To most of us here in the Caribbean it's the month before all those good ol' external exams begin, when Internal Assessments are due and you realise you haven't started shit yet. That I am very much guilty of, every year... However for me it has a bit more personal significance... of the "why the fuck am I such a sentimental piece of shit" variety.

You see it started 4 fucking years ago... FOUR... April 7th, when a girl who wasn't my friend yet was killed by her father. I will go no further with that, except to say that I don't deserve to mourn for a girl who wasn't my friend yet if her friends have learnt to deal with her absence. I don't deserve to, yet every April, I somehow am propelled into this phase of pathetically sad bitchiness (or bitchy, pathetic sadness?) under the guise of mourning. Guise because it's selfish, just my relentless need for people and the thought that I lost one before I had the chance to gain her in the first place. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

Then secondly, you remember a certain petite girl right? About yeah tall, small frame, I wrote several very bad poems after she left me, alongside a few rants on good ol' impulseprose? Yeah, her. Well she was a timing maestro, as if she had calculated the best time to pretty much wreck me. She abandoned me on Sunday, April 7, a day I stayed at home because I just couldn't deal hoping my Seventh Day Adventist girlfriend would be of some solace... and then she left me the day after. Something about me being boring and depressing. So yeah... that was a good 4 months... Thank God for Summer, Dempster and Fairytales.

But this post isn't to talk about those incidents. Because honestly they really aren't the real reason for this shitstorm that is my mood currently, and may continue to be my mood for a while. These things are basically what I call "excuses". They are events that validate, to some extent, my self destructive behaviour.

I have spoken about, in the past, the concept of an inner masochist. The deep need or want we apparently have to punish ourselves for things. ( I guess I can only talk for myself to be honest, so the "we" should be "I" and the "ourselves", "myself". ) I accelerate that urge. I find a reason, a correlation, an event, anything and I go to town on it.

Now I'm pretty sure it's evident that I do believe in Love... as a thing, that is important. However, a certain petite girl postulated that I am intrinsically incapable of expressing Love, whatever it is, because I (in her opinion) don't love myself. I couldn't answer at the time because I wasn't sure if I did, and I still don't know if I do.

And that scares me.

It scares me because I don't wan't to lie to someone I care about. Especially not about something that important. There are things I want to say and fucking mean it. It's the day after two weeks with Fairytale and 8 days from the apex of my excuses. And she has done nothing to deserve me in this shitstorm state. Because the strange thing about caring about someone is that you can't watch them suffer. So I'm not even just torturing myself... and then the circle of self loathing makes another turn.

In truth though, I'm glad I'm not soloing through this: couldn't ask for  better girlfriend right now.
-Me