Sadly Beautiful
I don't know what he wants from me anymore. I don't know what else I can give him.
Does he want me to change for him?
I tried to. I went back to meetings because he wanted me to go. Because he thought I needed that help. I stopped smoking, started using the patches, because I wanted to prove to him that I could change. That I could be the perfect girlfriend, even the perfect wife (hell I'm allowed to dream aren't I?). Tried to prove to both of us that he could take me to those functions that his family loved so much and I wouldn't let him down.
(its strange how the bottle reflects the light, the glow that shines onto the table behind it, the colour it turns when the overhead light catches it just right.) (it makes a strange sound when I break the seal, as well)
Did he want me to beg him not to go?
I did.
I begged him not to go, pleaded with him. I'd already lost one...friend that way. Gone to do some 'good' in a country that didn't give a shit. I couldn't stand to loose him to that as well. And I begged him, in the car park of the hospital. Pleaded with him.
Pleaded with him to give us another chance.
Pleaded with him to give me another chance.
(the first smell, the first hint of it's perfume is always strange, a little sweet, just for that initial breath, then sour, almost overwhelmingly sour, an appetizer for its bitter taste) (I suppose that's why they call it sour mash)
I knew how badly I'd fucked things up then.
"It's got to be better than here." And I knew that was because of me. Everything he'd done, everything he'd put up with, not just from me, but from my family. Everything he'd done without a thought, done it for me, without me having to ask, because he knew me, and knew that I could never ask for help, not even from him.
The memory of his face, at his grandmother's funeral, when Eric fell in the grave... Every time I close my eyes, that's what I see. The horror, the shame in his eyes, on his face, still breaks my heart.
I think that drove home to him just what he would have had to put up with if he married me, if he was even with me. Rammed home just what my family were like, just what they were capable of. As if he wouldn't have had enough to cope with just me.
He just looked so sad, so beautiful. And there was nothing I could do, to comfort him. I had to leave, had to go look after Eric. What else could I do?
I could have been there for him.
Instead I left to go look after my brother. Left him there grieving. Alone.
God help me, I still cry when I remember that, when I remember the way I left him there, all alone.
(the ice in the glass sizzles when the booze hits it, its almost hypnotic to watch it pour, drop by drop into the glass, it makes such a pleasant sound, tinkling, almost musically.)
Was that when he started to hate me?
Was that when I started to hate myself again?
I've started smoking again.
It just seemed easier when he left. Easier to relapse, rather than try to keep fighting, trying to be the person he made me wish I was. And I do wish I was that person. I loved the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel. No one has ever made me feel the way he could with just a glance, just a smile.
Maybe I shouldn't have tried to change, even for him. Maybe I should just have stayed the way I was. Stayed the person (I think) he fell in love with, rather than try to be this person I'm not, this person I couldn't be.
Jesus Christ, I hate all this self pitying bullshit I've fallen into!
But I miss him.
Jesus that was hard to admit
But I do miss him, more than...anyone. Miss him more than any crutch I've ever needed to lean on.
When did everything get oh so fucked up?
Baby needs a brand new pair of eyes
cause the ones you got now see only goodbyes
had no chance at all to let you know
oh so sadly, beautiful
sadly, beautiful
(it burns a little on the way down. I haven't had a drink like this in so long. Oh I've had a drink or two with Susan and Chen, a beer or a glass of wine. But those were social drinks, a way of relaxing with friends after a hard shift. This was different) (tonight, I just wanted to get drunk, to find a little comfort at the bottom of a bottle) (I open it and pour a little more out)
I don't blame him for leaving, not for...anything.
I envy him. He took that step, cut me off, before I could poison him like I'd poisoned everything else in my life. I cant hate him for that. I just wish I'd had the courage to do it, had the courage to spare both of us the pain.
What hurts the most is that I'd really started to think that we had a future together that we could be happy together. For a while, I'd even thought that he had felt the same.
But he didn't, or if he did, he soon changed his mind. I can't blame him for that, can't blame him for deciding that we weren't worth the effort.
For deciding that I wasn't worth the effort.
I'm not convinced that I'm worth the effort, either
(it gets easier to drink easier to take the burning. Better that pain. I can cope with that burning. I can't cope with the ache in my heart.) (I pour myself another drink)
I've ran things over in my head so many times. Not just how we left things, but our whole relationship. All the time we spent waiting for the right time, the right moment, the right situation.
All the time we both wasted.
Did I put too much hope in us? Was I too desperate for us to work? Did I put too much pressure on us? Did I break us with my hopes and expectations, break us before we'd even had a chance together?
I don't even know anymore.
I was just so tired of being alone, of being unhappy.
With him, I thought I'd found someone who could make me happy, that I could be with, that I could be happy with.
God I'm so tired of being alone, of being unhappy.
I'm so tired of being me.
(I can feel the heat starting to spread through my body. I try to relax in my chair, hard and uncomfortable as it is. I light another cigarette, watching the flame eat into the match head) (I'm so sleepy)
It's not just with him.
I've failed at everything, with everybody. I've fucked up my marriage, my medical career, my friendships.
Jesus, my friendships.
When anybody has taken the time to get to know me, I end up driving them away, or they decide that I'm not worth the effort.
I'm not worth the effort.
(I'm so tired) (I just want to sleep) (my stomach hurts)
From the very last time you waved and honked your horn
to a face that turned away pale and worn
had no chance at all to let you know
you left me sadly, beautiful
left me sadly, beautiful
Sadly, beautiful
so sadly
so sadly....
The End of Sadly Beautiful.
I don't know what he wants from me anymore. I don't know what else I can give him.
Does he want me to change for him?
I tried to. I went back to meetings because he wanted me to go. Because he thought I needed that help. I stopped smoking, started using the patches, because I wanted to prove to him that I could change. That I could be the perfect girlfriend, even the perfect wife (hell I'm allowed to dream aren't I?). Tried to prove to both of us that he could take me to those functions that his family loved so much and I wouldn't let him down.
(its strange how the bottle reflects the light, the glow that shines onto the table behind it, the colour it turns when the overhead light catches it just right.) (it makes a strange sound when I break the seal, as well)
Did he want me to beg him not to go?
I did.
I begged him not to go, pleaded with him. I'd already lost one...friend that way. Gone to do some 'good' in a country that didn't give a shit. I couldn't stand to loose him to that as well. And I begged him, in the car park of the hospital. Pleaded with him.
Pleaded with him to give us another chance.
Pleaded with him to give me another chance.
(the first smell, the first hint of it's perfume is always strange, a little sweet, just for that initial breath, then sour, almost overwhelmingly sour, an appetizer for its bitter taste) (I suppose that's why they call it sour mash)
I knew how badly I'd fucked things up then.
"It's got to be better than here." And I knew that was because of me. Everything he'd done, everything he'd put up with, not just from me, but from my family. Everything he'd done without a thought, done it for me, without me having to ask, because he knew me, and knew that I could never ask for help, not even from him.
The memory of his face, at his grandmother's funeral, when Eric fell in the grave... Every time I close my eyes, that's what I see. The horror, the shame in his eyes, on his face, still breaks my heart.
I think that drove home to him just what he would have had to put up with if he married me, if he was even with me. Rammed home just what my family were like, just what they were capable of. As if he wouldn't have had enough to cope with just me.
He just looked so sad, so beautiful. And there was nothing I could do, to comfort him. I had to leave, had to go look after Eric. What else could I do?
I could have been there for him.
Instead I left to go look after my brother. Left him there grieving. Alone.
God help me, I still cry when I remember that, when I remember the way I left him there, all alone.
(the ice in the glass sizzles when the booze hits it, its almost hypnotic to watch it pour, drop by drop into the glass, it makes such a pleasant sound, tinkling, almost musically.)
Was that when he started to hate me?
Was that when I started to hate myself again?
I've started smoking again.
It just seemed easier when he left. Easier to relapse, rather than try to keep fighting, trying to be the person he made me wish I was. And I do wish I was that person. I loved the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel. No one has ever made me feel the way he could with just a glance, just a smile.
Maybe I shouldn't have tried to change, even for him. Maybe I should just have stayed the way I was. Stayed the person (I think) he fell in love with, rather than try to be this person I'm not, this person I couldn't be.
Jesus Christ, I hate all this self pitying bullshit I've fallen into!
But I miss him.
Jesus that was hard to admit
But I do miss him, more than...anyone. Miss him more than any crutch I've ever needed to lean on.
When did everything get oh so fucked up?
Baby needs a brand new pair of eyes
cause the ones you got now see only goodbyes
had no chance at all to let you know
oh so sadly, beautiful
sadly, beautiful
(it burns a little on the way down. I haven't had a drink like this in so long. Oh I've had a drink or two with Susan and Chen, a beer or a glass of wine. But those were social drinks, a way of relaxing with friends after a hard shift. This was different) (tonight, I just wanted to get drunk, to find a little comfort at the bottom of a bottle) (I open it and pour a little more out)
I don't blame him for leaving, not for...anything.
I envy him. He took that step, cut me off, before I could poison him like I'd poisoned everything else in my life. I cant hate him for that. I just wish I'd had the courage to do it, had the courage to spare both of us the pain.
What hurts the most is that I'd really started to think that we had a future together that we could be happy together. For a while, I'd even thought that he had felt the same.
But he didn't, or if he did, he soon changed his mind. I can't blame him for that, can't blame him for deciding that we weren't worth the effort.
For deciding that I wasn't worth the effort.
I'm not convinced that I'm worth the effort, either
(it gets easier to drink easier to take the burning. Better that pain. I can cope with that burning. I can't cope with the ache in my heart.) (I pour myself another drink)
I've ran things over in my head so many times. Not just how we left things, but our whole relationship. All the time we spent waiting for the right time, the right moment, the right situation.
All the time we both wasted.
Did I put too much hope in us? Was I too desperate for us to work? Did I put too much pressure on us? Did I break us with my hopes and expectations, break us before we'd even had a chance together?
I don't even know anymore.
I was just so tired of being alone, of being unhappy.
With him, I thought I'd found someone who could make me happy, that I could be with, that I could be happy with.
God I'm so tired of being alone, of being unhappy.
I'm so tired of being me.
(I can feel the heat starting to spread through my body. I try to relax in my chair, hard and uncomfortable as it is. I light another cigarette, watching the flame eat into the match head) (I'm so sleepy)
It's not just with him.
I've failed at everything, with everybody. I've fucked up my marriage, my medical career, my friendships.
Jesus, my friendships.
When anybody has taken the time to get to know me, I end up driving them away, or they decide that I'm not worth the effort.
I'm not worth the effort.
(I'm so tired) (I just want to sleep) (my stomach hurts)
From the very last time you waved and honked your horn
to a face that turned away pale and worn
had no chance at all to let you know
you left me sadly, beautiful
left me sadly, beautiful
Sadly, beautiful
so sadly
so sadly....
The End of Sadly Beautiful.