And I Stumble
Hate
Hearts are wasted,
Lives are broken.
I think I still hate you.
I know, hate is a strong word. It is. I don't particularly like to toss that word around, but in this case, I think it's fitting. Maybe you're wondering why I hate you. If you were, then I'd call you stupid.
Maybe I don't just hate you. I hate him too. He did this too. It wasn't just you. You weren't the only one who screwed up. He did too. Except, the pain he caused was a hundred times worse then the pain you caused. It's something I could expect out of you. Not him though.
I wouldn't expect my best friend, of nearly twenty-fucking-five years to do something like that to me. After two-and-a-half decades you think you know a person. Not likely. That person is probably going to stab you in the back. They'll ruin everything you ever worked for. That, and they'll fuck your wife.
And then maybe, if you're lucky enough, they'll try and apologize. 'Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to sleep with your wife. It was an accident.' You, Mike, knew better than to do that, however. You knew it would be utter and complete bullshit and to not even try. I may be smaller, but I'd rip your balls off and shove them down your throat. And then you'd get what you deserve.
Alas, you didn't. So I was, unfortunately enough, not given that satisfaction. Oh well, I'll get over it.
Oh wait. That's a lie. I probably won't get over my best friend and my wife hooking up. Sorry. I forgot what we were talking about for a second. Idiot.
Adrienne, I wonder though. Was I really that horrible? Was I really that bad of a husband? Was I so terrible to you? I mean, sure I was gone constantly, but Mike was too. So that can't be the reason. I gave you a house, clothes, cars and kids even. What more could you want? I made you happy.
I did. It's true. I know for a fact that I made you happy. I could tell. Then suddenly one day I didn't. Tell me, darling dear, how exactly does that work? Did you wake up one morning and decide that 'Hey, I'm going to leave Billie Joe for Mike?'
Which brings me to my next question. Did you leave me for Mike?
Was that the sole reason you left me. Because you were madly in love with the bassist of my band? I'll be honest. I don't think that's why. And I hate it. If you left me for Mike then at least I would know that it wasn't really my fault. It was your fault. You fell in love with him or some cheesy story I would never, ever want to hear.
But no. I don't think that's why you left. In fact, I damn well know that's not why you left. And I hate it. I hate it. I hate to think that you left because I screwed up. Because I wasn't good enough or didn't treat you right. That I didn't love you like you deserved.
I hate to think that it was all a waste. Was it a waste? Was nearly 15 years of marriage a waste? Did we waste our lives on each other. And then I think, that no we couldn't of. We have the two most beautiful children. We loved each other. Loved.
And I hate that too. Loved is past tense. Not present, not future, but past. It sucks.
I just hate it all. Did I wreck this or did you? Why is this so broken? I don't understand. I hate not understanding. It's not really all that fun. Neither is sobbing yourself to sleep, which I've come to learn.
I just wish I knew. I wish I had the answers. I wish I knew who or what wrecked this.
And I wish I hated you.
But I've come to realize that, as of now, I can't. I can't hate you.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I hate that I still love you.
Lives are broken.
I think I still hate you.
I know, hate is a strong word. It is. I don't particularly like to toss that word around, but in this case, I think it's fitting. Maybe you're wondering why I hate you. If you were, then I'd call you stupid.
Maybe I don't just hate you. I hate him too. He did this too. It wasn't just you. You weren't the only one who screwed up. He did too. Except, the pain he caused was a hundred times worse then the pain you caused. It's something I could expect out of you. Not him though.
I wouldn't expect my best friend, of nearly twenty-fucking-five years to do something like that to me. After two-and-a-half decades you think you know a person. Not likely. That person is probably going to stab you in the back. They'll ruin everything you ever worked for. That, and they'll fuck your wife.
And then maybe, if you're lucky enough, they'll try and apologize. 'Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to sleep with your wife. It was an accident.' You, Mike, knew better than to do that, however. You knew it would be utter and complete bullshit and to not even try. I may be smaller, but I'd rip your balls off and shove them down your throat. And then you'd get what you deserve.
Alas, you didn't. So I was, unfortunately enough, not given that satisfaction. Oh well, I'll get over it.
Oh wait. That's a lie. I probably won't get over my best friend and my wife hooking up. Sorry. I forgot what we were talking about for a second. Idiot.
Adrienne, I wonder though. Was I really that horrible? Was I really that bad of a husband? Was I so terrible to you? I mean, sure I was gone constantly, but Mike was too. So that can't be the reason. I gave you a house, clothes, cars and kids even. What more could you want? I made you happy.
I did. It's true. I know for a fact that I made you happy. I could tell. Then suddenly one day I didn't. Tell me, darling dear, how exactly does that work? Did you wake up one morning and decide that 'Hey, I'm going to leave Billie Joe for Mike?'
Which brings me to my next question. Did you leave me for Mike?
Was that the sole reason you left me. Because you were madly in love with the bassist of my band? I'll be honest. I don't think that's why. And I hate it. If you left me for Mike then at least I would know that it wasn't really my fault. It was your fault. You fell in love with him or some cheesy story I would never, ever want to hear.
But no. I don't think that's why you left. In fact, I damn well know that's not why you left. And I hate it. I hate it. I hate to think that you left because I screwed up. Because I wasn't good enough or didn't treat you right. That I didn't love you like you deserved.
I hate to think that it was all a waste. Was it a waste? Was nearly 15 years of marriage a waste? Did we waste our lives on each other. And then I think, that no we couldn't of. We have the two most beautiful children. We loved each other. Loved.
And I hate that too. Loved is past tense. Not present, not future, but past. It sucks.
I just hate it all. Did I wreck this or did you? Why is this so broken? I don't understand. I hate not understanding. It's not really all that fun. Neither is sobbing yourself to sleep, which I've come to learn.
I just wish I knew. I wish I had the answers. I wish I knew who or what wrecked this.
And I wish I hated you.
But I've come to realize that, as of now, I can't. I can't hate you.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I hate that I still love you.