ruefulformelancholy

life is just a poker game
2001-08-06 18:49:28 (UTC)

Hurricane downgraded to a tropical depression

That pretty much sums up my mood right now. I just hope
Tray and I can co-exist for 5 more days & nights until I
move.

Just wrote a poem so I don't have to put up with stupid
banners on swirve.com game sites. If you submit a poem to
poetry.com, they take off a banner. Woohoo.

So, here it is:
--------------------
White picket fence
burnt to the ground
by demons that dwell deep inside.
I try to subdue them
with a thick purple haze
but i think they've become
quite addicted.
To my fears and my thoughts
and my tears and my dreams,
and i'm not
quite sure where that leaves me.
So i'll sit here and contemplate
present and past;
there's no need to waste time on the future.
For the future's tomorrow,
(yesterday's future -- today),
and it will all come along soon enough.
So here's to you, mr. demon, i'm raising my glass
in hopes that tomorrow, i'll find today.
-------------------

Wanna hear something funny Tray told me last night? He
said "you never talk to me like you do [your diary]". I
felt like saying, well I'm not about to go saying things to
him if he can't even give me the curtousey of saying "hey"
when he gets home. i'm not about to say things to him if he
doesn't act like he gives a damn if i live, or die, or
speak, or tear out my tongue. The last real conversation we
had where I told him what I thought was when we were
discussing how to sort out our shit. And before that -
damn, I don't even remember. Sure, we both bitched about
work...but if you want to know what's really going on in my
head...you need to show some interest in me as a friend,
not just the bitch you have to put up with for another week
before you're free.

"Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose".
I guess I'm just about free. In the past six months, I've
been through a breast cancer scare, this shit breakup, my
brother disappearing, my parents having trouble at their
jobs, and my job completely sucking ASS. Thank God the cats
are constant, at least.

Lucky for him that I have this diary, so he at least has a
clue about what's going on in my head. With him, i don't
have shit. And, all his expressed wishes are coming true:
i'm quickly approaching the point where i don't give a SHIT
about him. I never thought this would happen; but I guess
I'm just returning the favor.

Perhaps this is a weird illustration, but I feel like a
baby bird that's been kicked out of the nest and hit my
head on the concrete. And he's the baby bird that got
kicked out of the nest too, but he figured out how to fly
and made his way back. OK, so that's not really the
greatest example. But you get the idea.

I hope we can still hang out after all this is over.
Really, I do. But if he's not going to hang out with me now
(that is, if his friends aren't busy, or if Coyote Ugly
isn't on for the fourth time), then he's surely not going
to ride his bike a mile (one way) to come see me.
Especially when he won't walk two blocks for cigarettes.
And to tell you the truth, I have been hurt more in the
past month than ... in I don't know how long. Because I
CARED so fucking much. Because I wanted it to work. Because
I tried the only way I knew how to make it work. (Obviously
THAT was a complete failure). So, fine. We'll do this his
way. If he wants to hang out with me, he's gonna have to
make the effort. Because I've BEEN making the effort, and
he's blatantly ignored me in leiu of his other friends.

And it's not like I didn't try. I have asked him repeatedly
to go downstairs to the pub and shoot pool and have a few
beers. Among other things. You know, just hanging out. I've
been asking for almost 8 months now. Have we *ever* gone?
You guessed it...

And I know that this is something that couldn't have been
avoided. The whole communication thing is what killed us.
When we first got together, we'd talk about anything and
everything. We'd go out for coffee just to have somewhere
to sit and talk. For the past couple of years, we haven't
had anything to talk about. We'd go out to dinner and
shovel food in our faces and grin at each other. I think we
forgot how to talk to each other. I don't know if that was
intentional - like we had pissed each other off so many
times in the past we didn't want to do it anymore - or
what. And now, he has plenty of people to talk to. They're
people he works with, hangs out with, and they talk the way
we used to. And I've just got you, Diary. And I'm about to
be completely alone (except fo the cats) for the first time
in my life. And he knows it. I WILL not be at his beck and
call once I leave. If I have something else planned, I have
something else planned. This can't turn into one of those
things where I end up feeling guilty just because he's once
again proven he can get whatever the fuck he wants to get.

This sucks.

And maybe counseling would have helped us. In fact, I'm
pretty sure it would have. We're both fucked in the head.
But I think recently it's gotten to the point where we just
didn't care anymore.


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