(no subject)
what's strange is this is really reminiscent of my breakup with c.
in that i was pretty callous and matter-of-fact and just *shut off* like a light switch.
it's been a year and i still haven't given her a sufficient explanation for what was going through my head or how i went from wanting to talk to her about everything and every night to complete disinterest. i really brushed her off.
and for a long long time, she didn't handle it well.
which, of course, makes PERFECT SENSE NOW.
i no longer think she's really any crazier than the rest of us.
i think i just fucked her over pretty hard and gave her no notice and she was floating along and happy in this relationship that i just cracked over my knee one day, broke.
wham.
doors closing, all around. but it's weird because the more doors that close, the wider the world seems to get. the more doors that slam and close me in, the bigger and scarier my apartment, my bedroom, my head seem to get.
and god dammit, coldplay's *right. the hardest part IS just letting go, not taking part. that IS the hardest part.
because each second i think of something else i want to say, some other argument i have. and there's no reason to present it, not even to myself or my friends. she said today that she needs space, like to break up all over again, like to say, "fuck off, you crazy twat."
and i remember saying those things to c., shutting my phone off, having my roommate have to tell her to leave me alone several times. i remember her crying and sobbing on my answering machine about how she needs someone, doesn't know who to call. i did this to her at a really fucking bad time, too: her whole life was falling apart and i dumped her.
maybe this is divine retribution, the seeming heartlessness of this. the infuriating quiet h. is exhibiting, the way i know she slept all night, and soundly, too.
but realizing this, and talking earlier when she broke my heart by trivializing something that defines me (long story), something in me is dimming, too. her heart is not the only one changing.
my chest feels cold, really.
and not just about her.
it's just i needed her to be the ground, the warmth.
and she won't be and i don't want her to be anymore, not ever again.
and fuck you, william carlos williams with your "no ideas but in things."
fuck her sweatshirt and her dvd's and her handwriting on a postit. she isn't her discman or her smell on my sheets or the big heavy wooden garage doors of manhattan. it was never the concrete i needed, never physical solidarity. it was air waves, vibrations of the voice against my belly, the thickness in the air that says, "i'm listening."
it's been a long god damned time since i got dumped.
i think i'd forgotten about it. i'd forgotten how important it was to be *careful with the people you love. i remember now. i'll try not to forget again.
in that i was pretty callous and matter-of-fact and just *shut off* like a light switch.
it's been a year and i still haven't given her a sufficient explanation for what was going through my head or how i went from wanting to talk to her about everything and every night to complete disinterest. i really brushed her off.
and for a long long time, she didn't handle it well.
which, of course, makes PERFECT SENSE NOW.
i no longer think she's really any crazier than the rest of us.
i think i just fucked her over pretty hard and gave her no notice and she was floating along and happy in this relationship that i just cracked over my knee one day, broke.
wham.
doors closing, all around. but it's weird because the more doors that close, the wider the world seems to get. the more doors that slam and close me in, the bigger and scarier my apartment, my bedroom, my head seem to get.
and god dammit, coldplay's *right. the hardest part IS just letting go, not taking part. that IS the hardest part.
because each second i think of something else i want to say, some other argument i have. and there's no reason to present it, not even to myself or my friends. she said today that she needs space, like to break up all over again, like to say, "fuck off, you crazy twat."
and i remember saying those things to c., shutting my phone off, having my roommate have to tell her to leave me alone several times. i remember her crying and sobbing on my answering machine about how she needs someone, doesn't know who to call. i did this to her at a really fucking bad time, too: her whole life was falling apart and i dumped her.
maybe this is divine retribution, the seeming heartlessness of this. the infuriating quiet h. is exhibiting, the way i know she slept all night, and soundly, too.
but realizing this, and talking earlier when she broke my heart by trivializing something that defines me (long story), something in me is dimming, too. her heart is not the only one changing.
my chest feels cold, really.
and not just about her.
it's just i needed her to be the ground, the warmth.
and she won't be and i don't want her to be anymore, not ever again.
and fuck you, william carlos williams with your "no ideas but in things."
fuck her sweatshirt and her dvd's and her handwriting on a postit. she isn't her discman or her smell on my sheets or the big heavy wooden garage doors of manhattan. it was never the concrete i needed, never physical solidarity. it was air waves, vibrations of the voice against my belly, the thickness in the air that says, "i'm listening."
it's been a long god damned time since i got dumped.
i think i'd forgotten about it. i'd forgotten how important it was to be *careful with the people you love. i remember now. i'll try not to forget again.