So I'm single again. Officially. No, I won't be gorging on Ice cream. No, I didn't cry myself to sleep last night. I'm not a woman. And I won't be heading out to promptly bang every woman I can find. I am a man, but I'm not a stereotype.
I am, at present, eating alone. but I've been doing that for a while now. So how do I feel about it? Oddly...free. Relieved. And of course, guilty that I don't feel worse than this. Sadness has always been something I shrugged off. An emotion that doesn't really require immediate action. if any action at all.
But that was before Merri. Back then we'd both be sad for a bit, and I'd toss my lode into the pile of sadness that I generally ignored, and she'd still be sad. And I'd feel guilty for not being sad. Which would make my great pile of sadness impossible to ignore. There was a lot of crying in those days. Mind you, there was also a lot of undirected anger in the days prior to them. Had I not had that time; had she not happened to me; I'd have probably become like one of those that I now try to avoid. (Violent when drunk, Constantly spoiling for a fight, seeking sex filled relationships with women who don't seem to mind being slapped around every once in a while.)
Yesterday, upon reading her reply, I was sad. Quite sad. I was, however, also angry. Angry that this had to be done by email. That I had to be ignored to the point of outrage before she finally just told me. And what impotent outrage. A letter. A short story. A recounting of waking dreams as I calmly went about my day and pretended nothing was wrong. As if I didn't already know what was wrong.
I guess I'm still a bit sad, and a bit angry. but as I said, this has been happening for a while now. The only difference is I don't have to feel guilty about my imaginary accusations and doubts. And I don't have to feel guilty about fantasizing about other people as the memory of her voice, her face, her touch all fade. (That's a lie. How can I forget that face?) I don't have to worry about who's going to see me when I'm out with friends, smiling and looking happier than i ought to. And I especially don't have to feel guilty for thinking, "She calls me more than Merri does." I don't have to feel bad about liking this fact.
But that's still significant, isn't it? She calls? She calls...often for no reason. Perhaps, with this release, I'll be seeing more clearly now.
A final note: I think at the core of my relative un-sadness is the implaccable thought that...we'll be together again. We've circled one another so expertly in the past that I can't imagine we won't be together again in the future. i'm not counting on it, mind you. Not aiming for it. but I do believe it. Just like i know we were broken up before I was actually told, I know we'll be getting back together. I'm just waiting on confirmation.
I am, at present, eating alone. but I've been doing that for a while now. So how do I feel about it? Oddly...free. Relieved. And of course, guilty that I don't feel worse than this. Sadness has always been something I shrugged off. An emotion that doesn't really require immediate action. if any action at all.
But that was before Merri. Back then we'd both be sad for a bit, and I'd toss my lode into the pile of sadness that I generally ignored, and she'd still be sad. And I'd feel guilty for not being sad. Which would make my great pile of sadness impossible to ignore. There was a lot of crying in those days. Mind you, there was also a lot of undirected anger in the days prior to them. Had I not had that time; had she not happened to me; I'd have probably become like one of those that I now try to avoid. (Violent when drunk, Constantly spoiling for a fight, seeking sex filled relationships with women who don't seem to mind being slapped around every once in a while.)
Yesterday, upon reading her reply, I was sad. Quite sad. I was, however, also angry. Angry that this had to be done by email. That I had to be ignored to the point of outrage before she finally just told me. And what impotent outrage. A letter. A short story. A recounting of waking dreams as I calmly went about my day and pretended nothing was wrong. As if I didn't already know what was wrong.
I guess I'm still a bit sad, and a bit angry. but as I said, this has been happening for a while now. The only difference is I don't have to feel guilty about my imaginary accusations and doubts. And I don't have to feel guilty about fantasizing about other people as the memory of her voice, her face, her touch all fade. (That's a lie. How can I forget that face?) I don't have to worry about who's going to see me when I'm out with friends, smiling and looking happier than i ought to. And I especially don't have to feel guilty for thinking, "She calls me more than Merri does." I don't have to feel bad about liking this fact.
But that's still significant, isn't it? She calls? She calls...often for no reason. Perhaps, with this release, I'll be seeing more clearly now.
A final note: I think at the core of my relative un-sadness is the implaccable thought that...we'll be together again. We've circled one another so expertly in the past that I can't imagine we won't be together again in the future. i'm not counting on it, mind you. Not aiming for it. but I do believe it. Just like i know we were broken up before I was actually told, I know we'll be getting back together. I'm just waiting on confirmation.
You always know.
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