If I only could make a deal with God.

Every time he gets a new girlfriend something deep inside me cringes and sobs once. Only once.
He was never mine and will never be mine. For various reasons. Primarily because I never gave him the chance to be.
That's rationale from my "right" mind.
My psychoanalytical response.
Though I am far from a complete recovery , I don't believe there is complete recovery from clinical depression, I do have the tools necessary to "fake it"
It's like knowing you should have a salad instead of a plate of grease laden cheese fries.
Which raises the question, in times like these why would anyone least of all me deny themselves a bit of comfort.
Does my "wrong" mind and its distorted views offer comfort? I think so.
28 years worth of defense and coping mechanisms, though most have been deemed unhealthy" by the professionals, served their purpose well.
Offering distraction, protection and release from the world built too bright and cruel for we sensitive types.

My right mind tells me, how could he have ever been yours if you never truly gave him the chance to be? You made the decision for him by never even allowing the possibility.

My wrong mind gives the answers I tend to prefer on days like today.
Too ugly for him.
Too fat and strange.
How would you walk down the street with him, or meet his friends without feeling so sorry for him because he has to be seen with you?

Crazy, huh? I have felt about every single one of my past boyfriends. Which explains to my right mind why I'm 28 years old and the longest relationship I've had lasted 8 months, mostly long distance.

Self hatred is something I have struggled with for as long as I can remember. Just when I think I've conquered it, there it is
quiet as cancer in remission.
It pops up *Surprise!*
And I am no longer a survivor.

No, he was never mine. He never will be. But that teeny tiny part of me that knows I'm better than this diseased thought process cringes when he falls in love.