They say that one of the worst things you can do to yourself is to sell your soul to the devil. The thing is, the very fact that the word 'sell' is used, entails a give and take, even though it's usually unfair.

You know what's worse than selling your soul?

Just giving it up. Handing it over on a silver platter with no sale, no bargain.

Know why it's worse?

Because you can't even blame the devil. You have only yourself to blame.

No one ever writes about us. It's unfair really.

All you people ever care about is the happy ending and the smiling faces of the hero and the heroine. When do you ever wonder about my happy ending?

Agreed that sometimes I'm the "bad guy", but doesn't the "bad guy" also get a happy ending? And what about those times that I'm not the bad guy? Even then I don't get the girl. Even after doing everything right.

You think it's easy being ditched at the altar. After investing time and money in the damn wedding, it all gets ruined because the love of my life decides I am not the love of her life. Imagine standing there with an insanely happy grin plastered on your face dreaming about the wonderful future you are going to have and then watching your bride run away to "find her true love". Talk about giving due warning. Ever heard of talking to me before the wedding? I guess not.

And what about the emotional scars that leaves behind? Do any of you ever wonder what a beating my self-esteem takes? Being dumped at the altar for another guy doesn't do very well for the ego you know. Heartbreak is a messy affair by itself and when you add to that the TRAUMA of being dumped at your own wedding, you can't even begin to imagine the concoction THAT turns out to be. You know how depressing it is and how much it makes you doubt yourself? I think not.

When are there ever any sequels about me? All you see are their happily ever afters. Their babies, their tralala songs and their oh-so-happy smiling faces. None of you ever bother to follow up my story. You don't even attempt to think about what happened to me after I got my heart ripped out of my chest and crushed with a sledgehammer into a thousand pieces.

Then you blame me for becoming cynical. Try dreaming about that girl every day every night and then finding out she loves someone else. She's allowed to "follow her heart" but then what about my heart huh? Nope. No one cares about my hopes, my dreams, my future, my love and all that jazz.

No one ever cares about the secondary character.

No one cares about me. While I'm left standing in that church. No one bothers with the jilted lover. I don't matter in the great scheme of things right?

Yeah. Cos I'm just the convenient scapegoat.