Aspiring to nothing

John had the best FB status update today:

“Today, I found a penny. It reminded me of you. Worthless, and it’s been in EVERYONE’S pants.”

Can’t say it reminded me of (m)any of my exes. But it sure reminded me of Little Whore on the Prairie.

Yet even though I borrowed the status update, it killed me but I refrained from doing a long-distance dedication to a red state. Because, as I decided long ago, the biggest whore on earth has it all. Million-dollar house, Stepford family (my god, the kids look just like her and they’re all fucking dead behind the eyes), hot guy who actually thinks her useless ass is worth something. Like I can blame her, really.

I find it cute that he thinks waiting for her ugly ass is aspiring to something. Aspiring to nothing, maybe. Ergo, I need to stop giving her my energy because she’s got QUITE enough coming from this land.

I tend to gravitate toward pity for the boy from my LONG ago past. Because if that’s his definition of perfection — and that’s somehow more-desirable than me — he’s clearly got self-esteem or mental issues.

And considering my own very low tolerance for, well, everybody, what makes me have that soft spot in my hardened little heart? Sympathy? That if he’d just see the light, he’d see that he’s worth so much more? That if someone showed him love and kindness, he’d raise his standards?

Well, we see how well THAT worked out.

I was thinking — if I were someone who were friends with, or was otherwise a casual observer of, myself — what would I think of me?

Pity comes to mind. Disappointment. Befuddlement. Like, where’s the Goddess we know and love?

I mean, yes, this Goddess has a big heart and loves everyone who needs love, even and especially if they don’t feel worthy of embracing it. But damn, girl. On the surface, yes, I’m lukewarm at best. Distance really does make the boys’ hearts grow fonder. But inside? Boiling cauldron of everything that is opposite of sugar and spice and everything nice.

But would I daresay our heroine is aspiring to nothing the way our former perceived hero was and still is?

Not if it would ruin the potential of a “someday, somewhere, if ever the time might be right in another time and place,” I wouldn’t.

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