So much for my happy ending.

There was a time when I was happy.

I could smile at the thought of love; almost envision the rush of someone’s fingers entwined with mine. I’d dream of possibility in a realm with no limits, where the only thing that can possibly stop you is when you find that your dreams have come true. It was that time when the words “happily ever after”, perfect and complete at the end of a movie or book, could make me smile. I’d be content, knowing that they were content; regardless of how unrealistic everything was; maybe in imagining that there was a sliver of hope that I’d find the same perfect ending too.

Now I want to rip their heads off.

I’m ashamed to say what happens to me now, in the face of their happiness. The monster on my back, not so much just shades of envious green anymore but morphing into a crimson shade of anger as well, now dwells inside me; clawing at my insides from within, clenching my heart in its fists and wringing it dry of any possible hope.

To say the very least, I cry.  

I don’t take pride in these tears. They repulse me and no sooner are they formed than they are wiped dry, into oblivion, by the back of my hand – a voluntary motion, as opposed to the tears themselves.

Maddening, the thought of it. They swell with the increasing intensity of the happiness of the characters and fall, coincidentally, at a kiss. Always, like an unbreakable cycle, dooming me to cringe in the presence of positive emotions for the rest of my life. Which drives me to think why; why does the thought of love, another person’s joy, anger me so? And then I realize that it’s all your fault. You made me this wreck, a heartless maniac who can’t stomach the thought of other people being happy and why? Just because she doesn’t have anything to be happy about.

Again, your fault.

“Pulling her close, he whispered the words that she’d waited so long to hear. Three words, a perfect flowing symphony that sent static along her veins, warming her body from the inside out at the sound of his voice. What happened next, she can’t explain to this day. All she remembered was that as they connected, as he breathed life back into her long-dead soul, the whole world stopped spinning and in that frozen moment in time, everything was perfect. She was happy again.”

I’d have liked that ending. I still might – I’m not sure if what you did made me dislike them or stop believing in them, there’s a big difference. But for now, I can’t stand it.

You created a monster.