“Villain” came from the Old French word villain, in turn from Latin villanus, meaning serf or peasant. Consequently, it means a person less than a knight status – meaning a person who is not chivalrous, someone who is the anti-hero or the adversary, someone who was the bad person in stories.
The anti-hero, the adversary – yeah.
Of all stories to be a villain, it had to hers.
The story: We became a couple. A year and a few months into the relationship, Knight A strides along. She almost leaves me for Knight A but decides against it. We continue on with our relationship. A few more years passed and She and I had a tumultuous fight. Knight A strides along again – this time she succeeds in leaving me. The span of the story: 4 years and some odd months.
In a desperate attempt to be close to her, I told her that it’s alright for us to be friends despite the circumstances and the break up. Being “friends” meant going out and talking, and to prove that I was alright and I didn’t hurt, I asked her a question that I should’ve never asked.
“Do you love him,” I quizzed.
“Yes,” she answered.
That hurt.
But that didn’t hurt as much as when she added, “I take pride in him for waiting 3 years for me.”
What am I in our four years together the enemy or the villain, and he the Knight in shining armor? I loved her with everything that I have and that’s what she thinks? All I did was do what I thought was right; I never thought I’d be the villain of her love story.
So this is what it feels like to be the enemy, to be Bluto instead of Popeye, to be the mad witch instead of Prince Charming, to be the hated keeper instead of the loved one. Now I know that they’re not indestructible and that they or should I say “we” – the villains – hurt too.
Disclaimer: I am happy with what I have now, I decided to post this entry because I think that what I wrote was good – the language - no room for bitterness.
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