Monday, 05/25/09 - 9:35 pm.
I had waited the entire day for the moment that just happened: close my bedroom door, take a deep breath, and let the tears roll down. After crying last night over Joseph for almost three hours, I fell asleep relatively easy. And I woke up an hour before my alarm went off. It happens.
My eyes were swollen. They felt as though they were just slits. My heart was so heavy, everything in me was. I looked at my back and I loved my tattoo; it has found a nice home in me. At some point during the day, I thanked God for my tattoo, because it made me reestablish my connection with Joseph, when in fact it was meant to mark a new beggining away from him. But I digress.
My boss asked me what was wrong. I just told him I couldn't sleep last night and he started to talk about how he had the same trouble. The whole day, I was sad. Just sad. Replaying things I spoke to him last night, or things I wish I had said. Replaying the best scenes from our relationship and telling myself that we broke up for the best. For the both of us. How he calls his wife "his girl" and the honoring place he insists on giving me in his life.
I cried on my way to the clinic after work. On mondays I see the patient that can't get over her break-up with her boyfriend of four years, and every session she touches a string in my heart. All in all, I know I handle it better than her, for a bunch of reasons, and I'm professional enough to forget about my own situation for 58 out of the 60 minutes of our weekly session. But we go through the same thing: the getting away, the mourning, the wanting to get in touch, the call to his mother on Mother's Day, the anguish of reorganizing life. And I started seeing her 6 days after I graduated, that is, 6 days after Joseph broke up with me. Some things are not coincidence, I believe. Seeing her helps me, too. To find better ways to get by, to see what not to do, to put everyhing in perspective.
And here I am, crying again. Why am I crying? Because I love him. That's all. My pain is pure. I hold no grudges, I just miss him. Every time I come from the clinic, I happen to drive by the intersection where I used to turn to the left to skip my block and head over to Joseph's house. It's so strange, not to belong there anymore. I know I said it once, and then I took it back, but I have to say it again: he's a home to me. He's the home I can never return to.
Last night when I was crying, I could totally see him putting his arms around me and telling me softly that everything would be ok. It was very vivid. And I hoped we'd continue talking, and I hoped he'd call me or we'd chat today, but I stopped hoping. Because he has a life, of course. And it's not with me. He was upset yesterday, saying that to me he wasn't a friend anymore but a memory. Funny, I said to myself. I am the memory, actually. He's still present for me; I have no one to replace him with. I had just chosen not to think about him much. I remember W, when he said this year would be crap. At some point, I thought I was ok with this. But I'm not. It is crap.
I also wanted to die. Or perhaps not. Perhaps, if I was on the verge of losing my life and somebody asked me if I wanted to keep it, I'd say yes. But I got very lazy. I didn't want to go on. I know it'd be a waste; with the life I've had, it seems Someone has been investing on me and is expecting something in return. But I still didn't feel like living. And it's not quite one of those fantasies in which you see people mourning and regreting things they did to you. I just got lazy. And I promised I'd kill myself if I didn't get the scholarship, but I think it's a promise that was born broken. Be careful what you wish for. I just...don't have a lot of motivation. I'm lazy, that's all. I'm too lazy to carry on with this broken heart.
It kind of made me laugh yesterday, when Art saw my tattoo, "I thought you were going to send it to my e-mail first and then post it on FB". Why would I do that? His interest in me has decreased noticeably. He doesn't even ask how I am. He congratulated me on the tat, I asked him how work was and after his reply, no other questions came. I said good night, he replied good night. Good night.
CR is the one who understands me well on my pain, saying my injuries are still raw. He textes me saying things like "the world is a school", "even death is a beggining" (after I told him it was awesome talking to Joseph but it also killed me)...he's like a human cookie fortune. And then there's Al's text message that ends with "it was good to see you...". I read it to feel a little better. I'm not looking into things, much less fantasizing; I just feel good that he thinks it was good to see me.
I don't see Joseph online. I don't see his wife online. And then I draw conclusions. And I think how in love they are with each other, and I still can't conceive how I was discarded and replaced so quickly. It hurts to remember his MSN nicknames about her, seeing her pictures, seeing her in the flesh, however briefly. How I wished I'd never see her face, and yet I ended up adding her to my contact list, just, it seems, to have her ask me how my weekend was.
Ok, I have cried my share. I'll try to do something productive before I go to bed.
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