alone in the dark
i'm trying. i'm trying so damn hard. and it just doesn't seem to matter.
moving the hanged man and losing our home was awful. i've been dreading it all month and it was even worse than i imagined. i still feel sick inside, and it hasn't even fully hit me yet. i keep wondering when i'll go back down and curl up in our bed and see him. but that's gone. done.
but the worst part was almost losing him. how he came out of the bathroom sobbing, out of the blue, not thirty minutes after telling me all was well and not to worry, that we were solid. but he lied, however unintentional, and it appears he's been doing it for a long time. the look on his face. how he threw his arms around me and said over and over again how unhappy he was, how he didn't feel like himself. how it boiled down to part of him wanting to leave me because i suffocate him. it ripped my heart out. we worked it out, but the hole is still there.
i don't trust that he's with me because he wants to be anymore. i don't believe him when he says all is well and not to worry. i've been trying so hard to recapture my self confidence, and i've been making progress, but this has sent me careening backwards.
i want so badly to attribute it to us not sleeping for nearly two days and the stress of moving and losing that place, but i know that's a half truth at best. and now, tonight, another piece of evidence that something has shifted. that i have misunderstood or misread something vital.
he hasn't called me.
every night, since we got together, if i'm up on the ridge he calls. usually at midnight. i plan on it like an eager puppy waiting for dinner. i always thought he looked forward to it too. that it was a connection that we shared and he craved the way i do. a hand stretched out across the ether to coil around his own when real flesh is separated by mountains and lakes. but i was wrong.
he told me, as he was crying, that it felt like an obligation. that even when i wasn't around i loomed. the requisite phone call. now i know it was true.
yesterday he called and our conversation was shorter than usual, even though there was so much to say. i hung up feeling lost. now today i sit next to my phone in anticipation only to be met with a simple text, an hour after his usual call time, that he is playing games with his brother. i have no idea whether he will call later or if that's it. i'm trying not to hope. it seems my old mantra, "hope is a lying bitch", has resurfaced. something i stopped saying after we got together.
i feel broken.
i don't know what i am to him, what any of this is to him. i thought it was the same as what it all means to me, but now i know it can't be. i want to know how he's doing. i want to hear about his day. i want to hear his voice. i want him. but here i am, obligatory receiver of a text message. and i know that if i ask for more we are done. we agreed to try to make things work, but my end of the bargain was to give him more space. and now i don't know if i can do it. not because i'm possessive or want to smother him, but because i obviously want more of him than he wants of me.
as i write this i feel awful. and a bit resentful. he still has someone to play games with through the night. that was me. that was our thing. that was my spot, next to him, controller cord over my knees. one day and he's already found a surrogate. meanwhile i'm sitting alone in a loft filled with miller moths skipping through music because every song i listen to irritates me, but the silence feels heavy and oppressive. i'm restless and torn apart. i'm lonely and sad. i have no surrogate. i have no one to laugh with as i skip calling him.
he doesn't need me. which makes me wonder if he will still want me given enough time for him to put it together. and i, though i'm trying my hardest not to, still need him. and want him. and can't walk to the bathroom without my phone in my pocket, hoping he might call.
i feel pathetic. unwanted. and like the only good thing in my life is rotting away.
i used to be so happy.
moving the hanged man and losing our home was awful. i've been dreading it all month and it was even worse than i imagined. i still feel sick inside, and it hasn't even fully hit me yet. i keep wondering when i'll go back down and curl up in our bed and see him. but that's gone. done.
but the worst part was almost losing him. how he came out of the bathroom sobbing, out of the blue, not thirty minutes after telling me all was well and not to worry, that we were solid. but he lied, however unintentional, and it appears he's been doing it for a long time. the look on his face. how he threw his arms around me and said over and over again how unhappy he was, how he didn't feel like himself. how it boiled down to part of him wanting to leave me because i suffocate him. it ripped my heart out. we worked it out, but the hole is still there.
i don't trust that he's with me because he wants to be anymore. i don't believe him when he says all is well and not to worry. i've been trying so hard to recapture my self confidence, and i've been making progress, but this has sent me careening backwards.
i want so badly to attribute it to us not sleeping for nearly two days and the stress of moving and losing that place, but i know that's a half truth at best. and now, tonight, another piece of evidence that something has shifted. that i have misunderstood or misread something vital.
he hasn't called me.
every night, since we got together, if i'm up on the ridge he calls. usually at midnight. i plan on it like an eager puppy waiting for dinner. i always thought he looked forward to it too. that it was a connection that we shared and he craved the way i do. a hand stretched out across the ether to coil around his own when real flesh is separated by mountains and lakes. but i was wrong.
he told me, as he was crying, that it felt like an obligation. that even when i wasn't around i loomed. the requisite phone call. now i know it was true.
yesterday he called and our conversation was shorter than usual, even though there was so much to say. i hung up feeling lost. now today i sit next to my phone in anticipation only to be met with a simple text, an hour after his usual call time, that he is playing games with his brother. i have no idea whether he will call later or if that's it. i'm trying not to hope. it seems my old mantra, "hope is a lying bitch", has resurfaced. something i stopped saying after we got together.
i feel broken.
i don't know what i am to him, what any of this is to him. i thought it was the same as what it all means to me, but now i know it can't be. i want to know how he's doing. i want to hear about his day. i want to hear his voice. i want him. but here i am, obligatory receiver of a text message. and i know that if i ask for more we are done. we agreed to try to make things work, but my end of the bargain was to give him more space. and now i don't know if i can do it. not because i'm possessive or want to smother him, but because i obviously want more of him than he wants of me.
as i write this i feel awful. and a bit resentful. he still has someone to play games with through the night. that was me. that was our thing. that was my spot, next to him, controller cord over my knees. one day and he's already found a surrogate. meanwhile i'm sitting alone in a loft filled with miller moths skipping through music because every song i listen to irritates me, but the silence feels heavy and oppressive. i'm restless and torn apart. i'm lonely and sad. i have no surrogate. i have no one to laugh with as i skip calling him.
he doesn't need me. which makes me wonder if he will still want me given enough time for him to put it together. and i, though i'm trying my hardest not to, still need him. and want him. and can't walk to the bathroom without my phone in my pocket, hoping he might call.
i feel pathetic. unwanted. and like the only good thing in my life is rotting away.
i used to be so happy.