500 Days of Summer = 35 Years of Hurt

So Sunday night, we were chilling in our respective corners of the Fortress of Ineptitude.  Andrea was listening to a podcast, Randie was on Skype with her girlfriend. I plopped down on the sofa in the living room to fold some laundry and idly scanned the channels for something to watch. 

I landed on 500 Days of Summer. I like Zooey Deschanel. I've heard a lot of good things about this movie. Why not give it a whirl. 

I finished folding the laundry but I didn't finish the movie. 

I couldn't finish the movie. 

This one hit too close to home. 

I lived the story playing out on the screen. Both the joy and the emotional rush of falling in love and the sorrow and the slow grinding of gears as love comes to its end. 

I lived the story about 35 years ago.  Watching Zooey Deschanel's flashing eyes and incandescent smile as I sat there idly folding shirts, I kept seeing a different pair of eyes, a different smile. I remembered what it felt like when I realized there was this woman that I loved and she loved me back. I remembered the anguish as it fell apart, fell away, as I stupidly did every stupid thing I could to destroy this most wonderful and rare of joys and happiness. 

Whoever said time heals all wounds was a lying son of a bitch.  

35 years gone and it's astonishing to me how much that kind of pain still hurts. 

I'm sharing this on this space because I don't know why. I just need it in a record somewhere that after 35 years, it still hurts. And it was all my fault. 

Sorry to bum you out. 

I'll try to do a stupid comic book related post tomorrow.

Until then, remember to be good to one another.