The Help

Chapter 21

Warning: Hoes mad!
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The art of scheming seemed to be embedded into the helix of my DNA.

Scheming is essentially what put my brother behind bars.
He planned on becoming a millionaire overnight, by selling cheap baggies of drugs in the day.
Crazy how that didn't work out for him.

I can't imagine the regret that fosters in his mind, filling the void that was supposed to be harbouring success.

It takes a while for me to comprehend things, sometimes.
It's like my ears hear something negative, but my brain chooses not to listen to it for the sake of my sanity. My body protected the fragility of my heart under any and all circumstances.

Only, this time, I couldn't claw at the delusion that someone was better than their actions.
I've come to learn that giving someone the benefit of the doubt doesn't do much besides prolong finding out the truth.

Reality waits for no man nor woman, pushing to be exposed to the rest of the world.
The truth always comes out, and this statement in and of itself is true.
What you wish to hide will not always remain hidden, and life is unforgiving in that regard.

The art of scheming and the reality of life: I ended up exposing my own actions of infedality to Priya.

I wanted to let everything go, at first.
Not only did I want to move on, but I wanted to push Priya's words to the back of my mind.

Her confession was heart wrenching, the way in which she chose to admit her truth was emotionally unintelligent and just plain horrible.
Suddenly, I felt desensitised to my own wrongdoing.

"With time and repetition, it got easier and the guilt went away." and 'You should have trusted your gut. I
know that you knew something was
off between Coy and I. I knew that
you loved me enough to ignore it
and trust me, and I took advantage
of that. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for
making you believe me over
yourself."

What sort of apology is that?
What do you mean cheating on me became easier the more that you indulged in it?

I didn't acknowledge these things when she said it, but once I ended the call and reflected on her words, a wave of regret washed over my body.

Selfishly, I wanted to hurt her as much as she hurt me. I wish that I could be better than that.

Being the bigger person would have been the best option, I suppose.
Conflictingly, being 22 and experiencing my first real heartbreak, fresh out of a five-year relationship, sent me into a spiral.

Suddenly, being the bigger person felt like nothing more than a distant fairytale that attempted to coax me into a life of righteousness, but to no avail.
The rawness of my emotions ascended above all logic.

My feelings were hurt, and I wanted revenge. Still, I couldn't bring myself to cry over the entire ordeal.

I walked inside the multi-million dollar mansion, after Naya. She was sitting down on the couch, her eyes glued to the television screen.

Thoughtlessly and wordlessly, I took my rightful place next to her.

Naya looked over at me, the already dark bands around her eyes somehow darkening even more.
She must have sensed that something was wrong because she patted her lap gently, a wordless invitation for me to come closer.

I rested my head down on her lap. I yearned for comfort.

The television filled the room with a mindless drone, or at least that's what it sounded like to me. I felt disconnected from reality.