I hate you and I
miss you and I want you to
get out of my head!

ouch continued

I miss her and I'm so mad at her for making me miss her.  a dozen times an hour I think of something or see something that I think I'd like to share with her and then I'm stopped short with a punch in the face.  She doesn't want to hear about it.  She's done.

Ouch

My core is weak, apparently, which unduly taxes the muscles of my lower back where it comes to moving around, lifting, walking, dancing etc.  I also blame my difficulty processing stress.  I try to grunt through, shield myself from the worst of it with sleight of hand and focus on some task or tasks to get through.  "Boys!" laughs a friend. "Feel your emotions! When will you learn?" 

So, if all of this pain leads to a physical pain in my back that makes me lie down and breathe for a while, I guess it's a roundabout way to come to a meditation practice I've long known would help me.  My doctor last week recommended I start in order to curb my blood pressure.  David Lynch recommends it in order to make the world a more magical place.  Thich Nhat Hanh says it will lead me to acceptance and clear my mind to experience, among other things, true love.  Fine.  I'm in.  Situps, squats and meditation.  I'll have a zen six-pack.

They were supposed to be there, it would have been the first time we'd been at the same place socially since I'd found out second hand that in her mind she's told me that we've broken up, that in her mind she's told me specifically that we're not together.  Not the case, she said the opposite, but she says a lot of contradictory things these days and I suppose it's on me to separate the bullshit from the facts as they are.  Anyway, they were supposed to be there and I spent all day gathering strength to be there too and not come off like a mopey, broken boor.  To see our friends and laugh and ride and howl at the moon.  A dozen  times an hour all day long I wondered if I should just skip it for this month, but ultimately decided I'd be kicking myself for running away.  I go where I want, after all, and at the end of the day I've made stronger friendships in that scene in less than a year than her asshole clown has in several years.  After I was sure that they'd have already left for it, I responded on facebook to someone asking if I were coming. I didn't want them to not show, especially if they were going to dodge it because I would be there.

But.  They didn't show.  weak.

On the way there I boiled all of the bitterness I have for her into a single statement that would hide the hurt, give her an out, put the whole hurt on ice for a while.  She believes somewhat in astrology and at the moment Mercury is apparently fucking around with everyone's interpersonal communications.  Instead of being mean, telling her to go fuck her clown, telling her that the worst kind if liar is the one who lies to herself, instead of a dozen different things that would have felt cathartic to say, like the email below that I never sent, instead of all that I was going to tell her that clearly she and I are not in the right place to talk at all, that she's contradicting herself in every email and text, and that she's clearly hearing me say things that I'm just not saying, that we should just not talk for another couple of weeks and then see if it's possible to have a calm discussion if we feel the need.

But they didn't show up.

I also meant to tell him that he's got a week to get his crap out of my basement.  When she first took up with him and she still lived here he hit a financial crisis and we offered to let him clear out his storage locker temporarily and store his crap in our basement.  I remember doing nearly all of the lifting and loading while he dicked around in the locker and she sat on the floor laughing at his awful jokes.  He's got a job now, and though I don't really need the space, I just don't see a reason to keep doing him this favor.  Now I'm going to have to tell him in an email.  here goes...

Testing ii

--
If it's not about love, you're doing it wrong.

Testing

Happy friday, asshole

From the bulging file of unsent email in my drafts folder:

I never expected cruelty from you.

You never "broke up" with me, not out loud. The closest you've ever come was last week's "I still don't know if I'm prepared for us, you and me." which told me all I really need to know, though it's about as full of shit as your speech earlier in the month about how I'm too good for you. You fucking know and you've fucking known and you've been jerking me around to suit your need for drama.

I asked you again and again to be honest with me about your intentions, but time and again you lied. Sure, you were probably lying to yourself, to a certain extent, but I took you at your word. That's part of being in love with someone--you believe them when they say things like "My relationship with you was never in question" or "A life without you isn't an option" or "Ain't no sucker in the world that's a threat to us." bullshit. I can't get over how full of shit you are.

I could have begun to move on months ago when your feelings for me truly died, but you lied to me and strung me along, deliberately giving me false hope. It's not ok. I don't forgive you.

You've been doing it wrong.

--
If it's not about love, you're doing it wrong.