Ora once said of me that I am "obsessed with justice." Given the circumstances that surrounded the conversation, it was an understandable remark. Things with Audrey had been seriously derailed and one of my first impressions was that I deserved it because I had broken Anna's heart. I don't know that I would use the word "justice," but I do believe in a sort of kharma when it comes to relationships. If you do the right things, something good will almost always come along. If you've been hurt, there's likely something that you did that created the situation.

When Anna and Pierce got together, my joy was three-fold. First for Anna, because she'd managed to get out relatively unscathed, swapping one technerd sasquatch for another. Second for Pierce, who'd apparently finally moved on from his impending divorce. Third for me, because while I wasn't off the hook, I was no longer responsible for a seriously wounded heart.

My faith in all of this was justified somewhat later when Audrey - who'd hurt me - was miserably in unrequited love with Michael, when I - who'd hurt Anna - was still fixated with Audrey, and Anna and Pierce - who'd just been hurt - were blissfully in love. It seemed that there was justice in the world.

Somewhere along the way, the justice has gotten, at least temporarily, lost in the mix.

A little bit ago, I made the comment that I am happy "whether I have any right to be or not." I regret saying that (despite the kind responses by TP and Heidi). Not because of what I meant, necessarily, but the feelings that it projected: guilt, self-loathing, and self-pity. Even in my kharmic sense, I have suffered for my sins and don't feel any guilt about being happy. There is, however, an uneasiness about it.

At some point later this week will mark the third week anniversary since Anna and Pierce broke up. Anna is down from calling me about it three times a day to one. After a while my shoulder became numb from the tears cried on it, but I still answer or return her calls because I made a promise that I'd be there for her. This is nothing compared to what I put her through until Pierce came along and what she's going through now.

But my hands are tied, in some ways. I can't dig too deeply into Pierce's motives and offer some insight because so much of it is so similar to my state of mind when things ended that it's not a comfortable place to go. It also leads to the conclusion that she's simply not ready for yet: that they're not going to get back together. She's not in denial, but the awareness of her words are betrayed by the lingering sense of longing.

Mostly, though, it confronts me with worry. I worry for her a great deal. With the exception of a month in 1996 and another in 2000, she hasn't been single since February of 1996. She's not a vineswinger, which I define as someone that cautiously clutches to a vine until she has firm hold of another and can (to mix metaphors) leave the sinking ship. She's either been lucky or a guardian angel has been watching over her. But the luck has ran out and the guardian angel has left the building. There is no one on the horizon which is only good because she's clearly not in a position to get into another relationship. Otherwise it's very, very bad.

This is the third time that she's been left. The first was a dolt who reallized his error less than a day later, but still roughly a day too late. Pierce and I, however, both left at four years give or take six months or so. Some of the concerns that he has now are the ones that I had then. It's officially a pattern. Given the investment in each relationship, it's not one that she can just re-aim until she gets it right. So far she's avoided this self-destructive line of thought, which is wonderful. I can't say that I was able to do the same when things didn't work out with Ora and then Audrey under similar circumstances.

My head knows that this will be good for her. My head knows that she's dealing with this remarkably in that mysterious way that she deals with such things. She needs the time to develop a stronger sense of self (by which, lest there be any confusion, I don't mean self-esteem). But as her heart betrays her mind, mine does the same.

Which brings me back to my vague comment as well as Ora's about justice. Of all the people that I know, Anna is among the least deserving to be hurt. She's fiercely loyal, extremely loving, and a great person who has never intentionally or negligently done anyone harm. Yet I walked away and therefore I am not in a position to criticize Pierce for doing the same (nor would I, which I'll get in to another time).

I've made many mistakes in my life and over the last year. Yet Eel has stood by me. But I don't believe I'm a lousy person nor that I am, all things being equal, deserving of unhappiness. Yet when my phone rings, and I see that it's Anna calling me again to share her unhappiness, it's infectious and reminding me that the world is not a just place and reminding me that whatever I've brought to the table with Eel, I've also gotten really lucky. With that in mind, from ring to click on the phone I find it extraordinarily difficult to bask in what is going right in my life while someone so much more deserving of happiness is in such pain.