time. excuses. lies.

I don’t believe in bad timing. I don’t believe in fate or serendipitous notions. I do not believe in destiny.

I cannot however, say I NEVER believed in these romantic ideas; because I did once.  And then I grew up.

I realized that all of these poetic ideals were cop-outs. They are excuses. They are for fucking losers.

A wise Blair Waldorf once said: “Destiny is for losers too stupid to make things happen.” Whilst Blair is a fictional character, the girl has a point.

Destiny and fate and bad timing and every other fucking excuse is one fabricated by others too lazy or afraid to make good things happen for themselves. They are crutches for the weak; a band-aid over the bullet hole of overwhelming and deeply seeded issues.

Don’t get me wrong, I am all for a good truth. A bottle of wine, a bubble bath, or a slutty selfie to send to those who have broken your heart. I’ve done it. I have done it all. And I am not ashamed. I will never, ever, blame the fact that I am scared on something as menial and confounded as “bad timing”. I won’t do it, In the grand scheme of things, that is one of the most pathetic and cowardly things to do.

I have a pretty good friend of mine, “K”. We go back pretty far, I guess. He knows some of my darkest secrets and has also shared in some of my greatest accomplishments. He’s also seen me fall flat on my face climbing a mountain. K is really cool. He invented Super Dew and was the plug for contraband Four Loko the year after it was banned. I have always suspected K is a genius; not for his black market sales and affinity for mixed beverages, but for his mind. One night after some typical collegiate binge drinking, K looked me dead in the eyes (nay, my soul) and said to me this:

“There is no such thing as time; only clocks.”

Mind. Fucking. Blown. The universe snapped together, colors were brighter, and I heard sounds I had never heard before. Maybe it was the Super Dew, but my head was spinning.

At that moment, the concept of time became a swirling mess all around me. And, if I am being completely honest, something so vast as space and time cannot the sole reason for not being with someone you care so much for. It’s impossible. I don’t buy it.

I have never been one to believe in the fairy tale. I’ve said it time and time again. I do not picture myself riding off in to the sunset of a suburb with my loving husband and our 2.5 kids and a dog.

I do, however, believe very strongly that there are people you will meet and be enamored. There are people who come in to your life and everything just snaps. Like the time in K’s dorm, when time came flooding in to my brain.

That’s how it happens; Boom. Pow. All other onomatopoeias.

The moral of the story is this: I care. I have opened my heart to you. I have accepted that while you may drive me crazy; I do not fail. Your excuses are invalid. You need to grow up.

It’s a harsh pill to swallow, being the bad guy. And I know it. So please know this is not to break you down. This is not to make you feel bad. This is not to make you feel stupid.

It is to make you think. It is to shed light on the simple fact that you have taken the easy road, not the high road. Telling a half  truth does not make you any less a liar. You have dug your grave, now lie in it.

There is not such thing as “bad timing” when you care and feel like this.

Only poor choices by a poor boy in a poor place.



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