"how many times must it be proved
that life goes better when i'm removed?" -- heretix
it's hard to talk about the last two weeks, hard to even think about them without feeling tears coagulating in my throat and my face hot with shame. milo the kitten is sitting beside me on the futon purring and kneading his paws; cats don't understand how awful people can be without even trying. a minor mercy, i spose.
chance. matt got noticed by the important people, i didn't even though i'm doing essentially the same thing. compiling and formatting and typing and proofing tables of data and today barbara (who promoted matt because she was impressed with his computer skills, who doesn't even realize that i'm the only person in the office even *using* quattro pro or trying to figure out what database we can port these wordperfect tables to so i don't have to spend *another* night counting little fucking x's by hand) wasn't happy with the numbers and wanted them computed another way, so i spent all day getting new figures and new tables and i was going to take tomorrow off because i got paid a week ago and *still* haven't managed to cash my paycheck cause i don't have any illinois id and some asshole stole my texas driver's license last winter but no i can't go downtown with my roommate (who is stressing at me 'cause she's disappointed) because i have to work tomorrow, even though i've already put in all my hours for the pay period. after all, barbara wants new tables, screw everything else. and i'm still just a transcriber, just a casual employee, making less money than matt even though the things i'm doing are at least as challenging and difficult and essential to the project. and i wanna cry.
so last friday when we got paid it all came to a head and i told matt that i had to stop seeing him, couldn't take the stress of resenting him and loving him and feeling like he was going along with incredible unfairness to me. and then i was cruel to him on the phone, cruel enough that he hung up on me. the weekend's a blur; i remember scattered bits like saturday afternoon nose buried in the beanbag chair, friends stroking my back and me sobbing uncontrollably. and sunday night, reading a letter from him "you are flame to me i don't want this anymore" and feeling it in my center, frozennumbpain, exquisitely sharp black glass slicing and i could not deal with reality.
so i talked him back into it. only i haven't been doing the things i said i would. he needs more time alone, more space to feel like he isn't *sposed* to be with me every waking moment. only when he says he wants space, i come up with a dozen perfectly good reasons why i can't give it to him right then, though i'm always perfectly willing to do it some time in the future. just not now, not today, not tonight, this is *different*, that's not what i'm talking aboutyoudon'tunderstand...
so he feels suffocated and i feel abandoned and we're miserable but we're not sposed to be, we're giddy and burbly and everyone tells us to get a room and i never know how honeymoons are sposed to end or when or anything, so everything scares me and i know i have to find the space but god, what if it's just a cover, what if he never comes back, what if he's seen through the facade and knows what i'm *really* like, that small, petty, needy self i try to hide and talk around and explain away and just not acknowledge on most days unless i just can't avoid dealing anymore.
so he cries in my arms and i feel helpless and small and rotting from within, i've caused this much pain to one i claim to love and i suddenly realize that this love has been all about me, about what i want and i need and how he can adjust to my pissy moods and how he can make me happier and there's never a word about what i should be doing. figure out how to deal with this tantrum; i certainly don't intend to stop having tantrums any time soon, get over it. it's your responsibility to find workarounds; i'm not doing any debugging. thinking about it now, looking at it from this weird outside perspective, nausea rises and the wonder is that he's still around, still loves me. jesus.
so i'm tired and i can't write the usual beautiful intense things that get me the praise i live for, can't be eloquent or anything. i just want to sleep like i did on sunday, when the pain was too hot, too raw, and every time i woke up i took some more antihistamines to guarantee i'd sleep again soon without having too much time to think. now i'm thinking, and looking in a mirror. and retching.
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sine | deb
nothing to add