Numbness.

I left LA being really attracted to someone. Spending the holidays in FL changed my perspective on a lot of things. Almost like a reality check which I needed. I also saw my ex...
He said all of the necessary things, those right words I wanted to to hear the last time we saw each other which was a while back...but for some reason none of it mattered. Back then, I was convinced what we had was love. Now I am not sure what it was. What is love? Am I capable of loving? Or am I so numb that none of it matters. He was determined to see me, while I didn't care for it. When he finally just showed up to my house and I had no other choice but to hear him out, I had nothing to say.
How many times, did I practice the speech in mind which I would tell him when I saw him. All those things I never got to say. All of those things I hated. I edited it to perfection in mind, but yesterday I had nothing to say, because none of it mattered.  All of a sudden I didn't care if he understood why I despise him. He was a stranger to me. The Alena he knew, died a long time ago. With all of the pain and anger. Now there is just emptiness left and regret for the wasted time.
After he left I looked at our old photos, I didn't even recognize myself. Seems all so far away. None of it mattered. So sad.
After I lived what I lived through, all of the above seems like a stupid game. A waste of time. It doesn't count. I saw life, I saw death... and after seeing death, I was never the same.
One of my guy friends showed my picture to one of his friends and she said I have cold eyes. I think that explains it. People's eyes mirror their soul. My eyes are a mirror of mine. I don't know how this girl without ever meeting, was able to describe me better than I ever could myself.
Whatever we live through, just turns into memories and past.
I am content with my life and even happy at times.
I just don't think anyone is ever going to be able to completely understand where I am coming from, why I am the way that I am and deal with it. They always try to pick my brain for answers that I am not willing to share. The truth that is worse than any lie ever told. The anguish that burns holes inside me. I am content in my constant state of misery. It is what makes me-me.
For them, it's parallel fantasy of their imagination. For me, it's my existence. How can I ever expect anything other than remorse and shock as their reaction. They twist their minds making up plots that they call tales, screen plays movies. I just document my life. No need for imagination. The history has already been made and the plot was set, my job is to adjust and live with it.
The drive for revenge inspires me. I lost the ability to be joyful through out life.
This is me. With the demons inside of me. This is the unsightly truth.