April 22, 2007
Originally published August 14, 2004
I just watched the movie Cold Mountain on pay per view. I enjoyed the movie, but I thought that it missed the entire point of the book. I read that novel at Blood Mountain Cabins about one year before my divorce. All of my English Major instincts kicked in and I saw the novel as an allegorical tale about one thing: is it better to have known joy for a few moments and lose it than to never know joy at all? Is it worth a long, arduous trek to get something that you cannot hold on to?
I wrestled with that question for a while, until I had the boom lowered on me, and I KNOW the answer now. It's better to NEVER know joy than to have it taken away from you. You don't miss what you never had, but heartbreak is one motherfucker that lasts forever. Yeah, I've BEEN to Cold Mountain, and I'll never recover from that experience.
I wish that I could simply turn my back, walk away and forget about it, but I can't. Too much shit got crammed into that sock. I invested MYSELF in that relationship and brought a son into it, too. I bought the wrong stock, but that realization NOW doesn't make me feel any better. It still hurts.
If I could pick ONE SINGLE MOMENT in my life to live over again, it would be the moment when Jennifer gave me her phone number. I would throw that sumbitch away knowing what I know now. But I didn't at the time, and I ended up on Cold Mountain.
I fucked myself.
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