It's only your shadow...
She doesn't need me.
She says that she doesn't want to talk to me. She has nothing to say to me, but she doesn't want to hang up the phone. "Why?"..."Because I'm lazy, and don't want to." Not because she doesn't want to leave on a bad note. Not because she can't bear to be without the sound of my voice...but because she's lazy. She has nothing to say to me. I'm a horrible person. I do and say horrible things, she says. I'm cold. I don't care about anything and all I do is make her feel like shit. By talking, by telling stories about my day...I make her feel like shit. These stories, these simplistic rehashings of daily occurances that she once yearned for and consistantly asked for, are now this. Shit. Nothing of importance...just more nails through her eardrums...more shit that she could do without. Through the silence, she cries..and she hides her tears through a harsh voice that shuts down. Shuts down what? This sliver of a soul I have left after I try and fail once again? I don't know..."I'm not crying..." she says through gritted teeth as if her words could fly through the phone and stab me in the heart. She knows, though metaphoric....those words do exactly that. I'm dying. She's sick of my shit. I don't even know what my shit is but if I did, I would work on it. I'd do anything for her and she knows it. I told her that the drama is getting to me, or something along those lines. We fight so often that I don't even remember what about anymore. I stopped memorizing my comebacks, because they wouldn't work anyway. Not on her. She's a brick wall when it comes to fighting. Nothing gets in but the things she wants to get angry about...the shit, as she calls it. The good things I say....yeah, those just get stuck in the plaster.
As I write this, I know she'll only respond by saying something like, "I told you not to share our personal lives with other people," or "Nice entry on your livejournal," in her bitterly sarcastic voice...the one that makes my veins tense and bulge and my temples throb. I want to punch something. I want to bleed. I have tears steadily building behind my eyes, because I know the truth...because this is as false as it is realistic. My hands are shaky, although I can't decide if that's my medicine at work or my nervousness at the moment. The room is hot but even hotter when I go back to reread what I just wrote. My stomach is rolling in circles, partly because I haven't eaten much today and partly because I'm anticipating my next conversation with her.
She's out tonight. She probably won't call tonight either. She'll only blame our not-speaking on me. "Why didn't you call me?"..."Because I'm not the only one with a phone," I'll reply. Actually, I won't. I won't say anything, because I can hardly stand up to her. She probably thinks otherwise. She thinks I'm a tough wiseass who doesn't care about her. She doesn't know that, just because I don't cry on the phone with her, doesn't mean I don't bawl my eyes out every second that I'm not on the phone with her. I'll call her. Just to say goodnight...but it will end up being more than that. We'll argue about something, or she won't say much. When I ask why she isn't saying much she'll say, "Neither are you." She'd be right. She's always right. She always thinks she's right and so do I. I'm not claming to be the victim here. I don't want to be. I just know her better than she thinks I do...
I'll cry myself to sleep...for the third night in a row. Surprised? Probably. When have I ever admitted that I cried over someone? Hardly ever...especially if I were sober. I can't picture a life without her. That's why I'll cry. I'll cry because what we have now isn't what we had before. We've put the breakup behind us...but it never ever ends. I'll always do something for her to be disappointed about and then I'll break and apologize. I always apologize before she does. Everything somehow becomes my fault. I'll write her letters that she doesn't write back to. I'll write her emails that she doesn't respond to. I'll write livejournal entries because she likes to read them when she's bored, but she won't comment on any of them, even if I ask her to. "I have computer problems." Yup. I have a lot of problems too...but I always put them behind me to make you happy...or at least try to.
I thought this relationship was different than any other one I've had before, and in a way it is. I mean, she is my soulmate...or she's supposed to be. I could never fall out of love with her even if I tried. I think the harder I tried to forget her, the more she would be stuck with me. She's that kind of person. Who could forget her. She's amazing in every way and perfect for me. She fits every mold that I ever wanted the person I ended up with to fill. This relationship has hit near rockbottom which is why it's like many of my previous relationships. I always end up the bitch. The one who takes all the blame. The one who suffers silently and never speaks up. Granted, she does a lot to. She's done more for me than anyone ever could, so I can't pretend like she's an invalid. She's the complete opposite of that. Like I said, she's amazing in every way and so is the way she treats me. I'd beg to differ at times like these, but even though I feel like I'm being played, I can't help but think nice things about her. How beautiful she is...and that look that she gives me that I can't explain but love trying to. I sit here and cry more...she's out. She's sick of my shit....but I'm crying here over something. I wish she knew how much it hurts to hear her say how horrible I am and how she's sick of my shit. She wonders why I might say something mean in return. I have pride. I have an ego....and most of all, I have feelings too. You're not the only one who has them....
She doesn't need my shit anymore.
If I knew what my shit was, I probably wouldn't want it either, so I can't say that I blame her, but even so...I'm not sick of whatever she has, dare I call it shit. I'm not sick about anything involving her. I never was. I told her I think that she's looking for reasons to be angry. She only got more irked at that. I probably would have too if she said that to me....especially if I knew she was right. I've done that. Looked for reasons to argue for god knows what reason. Maybe not so much with her, but with others. I believed her when she said that that wasn't the case though. I always believe her. I've never had a faith issue with her. I trust her more than I've ever trusted anyone. I even trust her more than I trust myself. I don't get that trust in return. Sometimes it's hurtful and other times I just reassure myself that, in time, I'll gain that virtue from her.
Right now, I'm wondering if she'll call....If I were a betting woman, I would say no but I could be wrong. I wonder what would happen if I didn't call her tonight. I wonder if she'd call tomorrow. I wonder why it always has to be me who makes the first move. At first I didn't mind so much...but now it's more of an issue of why it has to be me ALL THE TIME, like it's my fault and this is the way I have to make up for it. She's just as much a part of this as I am, but she won't call. If she reads this before she goes to bed, I bet she'll call. Probably only to bitch to me about it. I don't anticipate this burning acidic feeling in my stomach to go away any time soon. She'll make it flare until I puke. Well, I won't really puke...but I'll get that same acidic feeling in my throat and I'll have to swallow it down and wait as it burns its way back into my stomach. If we don't talk tonight, there will be hell tomorrow. Hell I'm sure that I caused. It's her last day of work. It will be my fault if she doesn't have fun because she can't get me and my shit off her mind. I don't want to be the reason she cries....she came crawling back an hour after she broke up with me. When I was hesitant on taking her back right away she bitched me out. She forgave me when I cam crawling back to her months ago, so why wouldn't I extend to her the same curtesy?
This.
Right here. This is why I was hesitant. I knew we would fight right after. I knew the breakup was just the calm before the storm. I wanted to avoid this. I wanted our hurting to end..but no. It's still here and she's out. I wonder if she's smiling. I wonder if she's laughing. I wonder what she's saying about me...if she's bragging about me like usual, or if she's giving one word answers when my name pops up in conversation. I wonder if I've been on her mind the majority of the night or if she put me on the back burner. I wonder if she wonders if I'll call tonight.
I've been productive today. After I talked to her I needed some kind of release. Something to keep my mind off of her for just a little while so I could stop rubbing my face raw with flimsy one ply toilet paper and wet cloths. I organized some things to bring to college. I played the new computer game on my laptop that my little brother bought me as a going away present. I thought of her. I thought of us.
She's tired of my shit....I'm tired of giving it to her.