Persian Girl Diary

Sorry for the extremely sad post in advance; this one’s a bit dramatic, but for the record you are literally reading MY DIARY.

This weekend I went to a Montreal music festival called Osheaga. Me and three of my silliest friends driving 6 hours to stand in a crowd for 6 hours and walk around for the other 6. Can you tell my feet are killing me? You know, when you go to such a fun event, you expect a weekend of dopamine

and fun. But life has a beautiful ability to take wonderful experiences in your life and transform them into pure sorrow. I guess my brain remembered that this weekend was the first anniversary of when I found out Sam had slept with someone else. Yes, I know it technically wasn’t cheating, but the nervous system can’t tell the difference.

The shitty feeling of sadness slowly overtaking me started during the Malcom Todd set. Sam and I discovered him at the same time on a Spotify jam together (thanks Khadija), and both started loving him. I can’t forget the way he would scream the lyrics of “Chest Pain” in the car next to me. Seeing him sing, seeing him happy, it felt like a lifeline to me. I could live off that feeling for the rest of my life.

Sam went to a Malcom Todd concert without me after I left Austin, and as I was watching Malcom Todd perform without him, I felt like I had traded places with him. As if I had stepped into his body and experienced the concert from his perspective. I hate that I had to do it without him. I hate that our middle man is Malcom Todd now. It didn’t matter if the songs were annoyingly happy or a little sad; I bawled my eyes out through all of them. Man, why did he give up on me? Sometimes I have difficulty keeping myself hopeful. He knew me so deeply. He saw me when I was having fun and being crazy and controversial and funny and sad and introspective and sexual and stupid – and he rejected it all. He rejected my entire soul. If someone can know me so deeply and feel nothing for me, how can I expect someone to ever love me?

I’m an atheist, but I have so many questions for God: Was it a problem with my looks? Would Sam have loved me if I was more beautiful? If I was skinnier? Was it all so off-putting that my personality can’t save it? That my love and devotion can’t make up for it? Why do you hate me? Why did you make me the way I am?

I feel so f*cking ungrateful because I’m so blessed in so many aspects of my life. I have wonderful friends, a wonderful job, the most amazing parents, but what is all of it without love? God knows it’s the only thing I truly want. And he never gives it to me. Is my test as an atheist to die alone? Is that my punishment? Is that what God thinks I deserve?

And to be honest, the worst part is that I already know Sam will have no problem finding someone else. I bet he already has. He was so perfect; how could anyone not love him? While I wither away and God laughs in my face, he’ll always have his pick of the crop.

If I’m being honest, up until this very weekend I was still a little bit hopeful about finding love again. But my spirits are crushed. I’m used to the usual insults from my male friends about my looks and body and personality and how they find it unbelievable that anyone can find me attractive, but this time it felt a little too real. Maybe the answer was right in front of me, and I chose to ignore it. Welp. There it is. Goodnight guys, hope you feel a lot better than me 🙂