deja vu

from a book i'm reading:

My life has fallen down
around me before
-- lots of times,
for lots of reasons --
usually other people.

And most of the time
I was fortunate enough
to have a large lump of
that life hit me on the
head and render me numb
to the pain & desolation
that followed.
And I survived.
And I live to love again.

But this,
this slow erosion from below
-- or within --
it's me falling down around my life
because you're still in that life
-- but not really.
And you're out of that life
-- but not quite.

sometimes when the questions rise in your head, you can't say "no" to the desire to gain instantaneous gratification, immediate answers to those queries.

you sit tight, jaw clamped, lips tightly suppressed, and every muscle of yours straining against the temptation to clamor up and find answers.

but often, the mental and physical restraints you impose are of no avail in the end. the red flags had gotten set off, you are on high alert, and you just need to go find answers. you need to know.

and now i know.

am all the better for it?

no. it hurts a-fresh each time. it never lessens.

but at the same time, the difference right now is that i am accepting the pain.

instead of suppressing, rejecting it, trying to rationalize it out, i am accepting it and letting it spread to as many parts of my body as it can.

this is what it feels like to lose.

it is a real loss.

it is not in my head. it is not something i created out of thin air. this pain, whether i brought on myself or not, is real. and if i want to move on, then i have to accept that there was something i had that was very important to me and that i no longer have it.

this has been a somewhat enlightening journey for me these past few weeks. i have always had instincts, sentiments, feelings, interpretations about people and things that i have never really trusted. it's probably my academic bent, but i always felt that, regardless of whatever felt true or right with me, there will always be someone else who feels differently and whose feelings deserve as much consideration and validation as mine do; that there is no right answer; that all feelings are right and wrong.

my recent lesson is that there is nothing wrong with having faith in my own feelings. there is nothing wrong with going with my gut instinct.

there is nothing wrong with feeling hurt.

my mind is going back through recent events -- things that were said and done. things that i mentally noted were strange and did not make sense but that, at the time, seemed too minor to be of any big deal. but right now -- it all makes sense. it really does. and what i must shake my head at is the fact that no lessons were learned from prior incidents and that the same behavior is occurring yet again.

it's on me -- again, and as it always will be -- to be the one to initiate change so that the past does not repeat itself. i don't want to feel hurt anymore by the same person, the same things. i hate that i am the one who always has to be the bigger person, to be the one who adapts. but obviously, i must -- because i can see what is happening. and while i have been careful up until now to not let my emotions run away with me again, i still can't help but feel that same pang. it hasn't lessened a bit since the last time i experienced it.

i am kicking myself right now by how much it all makes sense. . . . the things that have happened or been said this past week; vague demurrings; careful phrasings.

i need to trust my instincts more often.

i'm okay. the last time this happened, i was devastated. and i am still hurt. but it's different this time. i can do this. i can get through this. i can do what needs to be done and do it for my own sake.

happy new year.

tonight

no, i'm not going to apologize to him.

no need.

he and i see eye-to-eye. we understand each other without many words having to be exchanged.

we made our peace.

i am still buzzed. i am not 100% sober right now.

the night was fun until you started demanding that i apologize to him.

you're lucky i did not punch you.

brainstorming my emotions

discontented
malcontented
lost
alone
aimless
destroyed
bereft
broken
drowning
tired
heavy
dark

grim

i am here. i am back at the house.

we had a brief exchange yesterday via text. i thought it was her attempt (a half-hearted one, anyway) to kind of send out an olive branch. i received a text from her yesterday evening, saying pretty much that i need not come to the house in the morning to take care of my dog; that she knew i had been coming over to do so but that she would take care of him for me.

i responded to her, thanking her politely. after i sent off that text, i hesitated before sending another one: "are you still angry? i'm sorry. for everything."

she answered: "not angry anymore. you brought up some good points." but she added that she couldn't talk at the moment because her brother had just arrived at the house. "we can talk it out tomorrow."

i sent back a last text: "for sure, let's talk tomorrow. you brought up some good points, too, and i have better clarity now, more so than from after our previous discussions." and then i said, in the meantime, i hoped she'd have a great time with her brother.

so i've been nervous about the talk that i anticipated would take place today. i didn't know what we would talk about or what i'd say. but i, for sure, didn't want to be upset or cry or be all grovelly. i know that there were some pretty loaded expectations on my side, so i take responsibility for that. but at the same time, i am sick of being the one taking responsibility for everything. and i wanted to be able to point out that she was not guilt-free herself.

fast forward to this evening. i get to the house. no one's there. she texts me at 9 p.m.: "are you at the house?"

"yes, i'm here," i write back. "you?"

"yes, i am getting ready to leave and get there."

okay.

she gets to the house at 10 p.m. with her kid.

and . . . .

nothing.

she's barely said two words to me. and when she did, her tone was terse.

she just came in, then went straight to her room and shut the door. not a slam. but it was pretty loud.

i'm, like, whatev.

she hates to be at the house alone.

i could very well leave this house right now and go elsewhere. i don't have to be here right now.

i understand it's 10 p.m. but where is that talk that we said we would engage in?

i am going to broach it tomorrow. get it over with.

i think it is going to be ugly.

if she can barely look at me or stand to say more than a few words to me, then the choice already seems to be made. i am not welcome here. and she is not going to be receptive to anything i have to say.

i feel worn. exhausted. bitter. raw.

grim.

hands clean

so what do i do now?

we had a tiff on the phone yesterday.

okay, it was more than a tiff. it was really highly charged. i was the one trying to swallow my emotions. i didn't say much, but when i did speak, i tried to make sure my voice didn't waver. but i didn't say much.

she, on the other hand, was mad. i knew, right when she picked up the phone and said "hello," that she was angry and ready to express it.

some fucked up things happened that night, two nights ago. not only did they go into her room to fuck -- but earlier in the night, there was a moment when she and i were on either side of her ex-boyfriend. he pulled her in for a brief kiss, and then he pulled me in. i did not protest. but i didn't enjoy the kiss, either. and that set her off immediately. she said that was fucked up. it turned into this major big deal. until i finally convinced her to step into the bathroom with me so that we could talk about it. in the end, it was not the fact that her ex-boyfriend and i kissed that made her so mad. it was that i had kissed him. he was sacred to her. i could go out and kiss anyone else if i wanted; she would not care. but the fact that i kissed him, notwithstanding the fact it was his idea to do that and he was the one who pulled me close -- well, that doesn't matter. i was just the one who should not have done that, and it is all my fault.

in an attempt to detach myself as much as possible from the situation, i see that, at this point, she needs any reason whatsoever to be angry at me so that, if our friendship breaks up, as it looks like it imminently will, she has no reason to feel guilty about it. it was me who transgressed boundaries; me who fucked it up; me who is holding her back.

but i want to say to her, hey, if you want to discuss rules and who is breaking them, let's talk about you. if you don't want me to kiss your ex, which i had thought you wanted me to do, by the way, because of all your talk about how you would never ever fuck him again unless it was a threesome with me, then let us talk about how you reached out to grab his semi-hard cock through his pants right there at the crowded bar and then grabbed my hand so that i could feel it, too. and hey, how about the fact that, you were pulling my shirt up and the neck of my shirt down to show the whole place, including your ex-boyfriend, my stomach and my tits. that's just as fucked up.

so what the fuck, huh? it's gotta be equal for all. you can't go around saying certain things, and then, when people act on them, you get livid while still going around breaking other kinds of rules.

i just e-mailed my therapist last night. i need to talk to her.

one of the things that my roommate and i spoke about towards the end of that terse conversation is the idea of me moving out. she brought it up, and i was not surprised. i told her that, yes, i had been thinking about that, too.

the way she said it was terse and barely controlled: "i think . . . you should think about moving out."

i can't tell whether that it is an order for me to immediately start moving out. or whether she wants me to just seriously think about it.

i'm more inclined to think the former.

i know there are a couple of you out there who say it is a no-brainer: i need to move out. there is nothing to be gained from remaining there.

i agree. i am drained. i am sick of being tense. i am sick of caring about who she is fucking.

but also, just from the past couple of days alone, i see that . . . i have and have always been the expedient one.

when it comes to who she would have to discard from her life, if it comes to choosing between one person or another in her life, i would be the first to go.

she has always been the first to say, "i love you, abbagirl." and i always took that to mean more than a superficial love. i knew it did not mean, "i'm in love with you, abbagirl." but i equated it to being as deep as it could be for two people who were not family members or in a significant relationship.

but now, i think it was never as deep as i thought it was. and what's more depressing to me is that i am the one -- or at least i am the one with a lot of the responsibility --who started causing the strands holding us together to start fraying. and i think it's at the point where there is hardly anything left to hold it all together.

i wonder if she yelled at her ex, too, for kissing me for that brief one second. it seriously was a forgettable kiss. but that was beside the point. i doubt she did. i bet it was all on me. she was in love with him at one point several years ago, and that love never subsided. she still cares for him. she never was in love with me, and so i am the one who crossed the line. she can cut me off. but she could never cut him off.

i told her i was going to take a few days to think about things, then make a decision about whether i was going to move out. i don't know why i said that. first of all, i know she doesn't like it when i take a few days to think about things. she is ready to go. she knows what's in her head and her heart and is ready to express it all and have it all out, and she cannot stand it when i have to take a day or so to cogitate on things. second of all, i do know there should be nothing to think about. i should move out. it's the thing to do for the sake of my and her sanity. rationally, i know i should move out, take some time -- a few days, a few weeks, maybe even a month or two -- to get her out of my system, stop being around her so much, and stop caring so much.

but the part of me that has formed an attachment to her still, even at this point, cannot bear the idea of just cutting her off.

but that's all on me. i did impose so much more emotions onto her every word and action. my therapist had it right when she said that i have taken every come-on gesture my roommate has made as something more monumental than my roommate did. and she's right.

i still want her, though, to think about some of her actions. why does she do what she does? why does she come on to me when she's drunk? why does she say the things she does when she's drunk, then have the audacity to say, when she is sober, that she never means anything she says when she is drunk? why has she been stringing me along all this time, knowing that every word and gesture she makes re-kindles the debate in my head about what's going on?

everything is fraying. . . . i am just really sad and depressed about it. i've been lethargic since thursday night, when they disappeared together into her room.

she is right. if i were really her friend, none of this should matter. if i were really her friend, then i should just be happy for the chance to hang out with her when we can and should not be fazed by her hook-ups with other people.

as much as what all my posts show about my roommate, at the same time, i am pretty sure they reveal as much, if not more, about me as well.

i'm needy. i'm co-dependent. my emotions get exacerbated from so much over-thinking. i have a hard time remaining objective and rational when my emotions get over-charged. i'm so eager for that pat on the head from someone i care about that i take it as a symbol of something more. i sacrifice so much of myself -- my finances, my free will, my independence -- for the sake of others even when the returns from those sacrifices will end up not making it worth the endeavor.

yes. i am a burden on her. i understand her anger and resentment.

i think she is ready to wash her hands clean of me. and . . . i've got to feel ready to do the same of her.

done

tonight, after work, my roommate and i met up with one of her ex-boyfriends, with whom she has remained close.

we bar-hopped to several locations through the night.

then the three of us ended up going back to the house. as we hung out in the living room, my roommate drunkenly started arguing with us. i tried to participate in the discussion a couple of times, but the other two were more interested in expressing themselves than hearing my point of view. so i left them and went back to my room, intending to call it a night.

after a while, my roommate went to the bathroom, and i went to check on the guest. i brought him a blanket so that he could sleep on the couch.

then i went back to my own room. after i turned out my light and went to bed, i heard my roommate go back out to the living room, then, after a while, i heard them both shuffling off to my roommate's room.

together.

"what the fuck. . . .?!" i said to myself.

i tried to let it go. but i couldn't. after a number of moments, i stepped out into the hallway. i wanted to barge into my roommate's bedroom, catch them by surprise, and express my anger. because i was pissed. they were together. the audacity!

but i remained, frozen. i heard their murmured voices there in the hallway, then loud kisses and some muffled, soft moans from my roommate.

i was pissed.

livid.

then i went back to my room. i picked up my cell phone and stared at it. then i called my roommate's cell. i knew she must've had her phone with her. it rang and rang, then went to voice mail. i threw my cell on my bed.

i then decided to take a hot shower. i slammed as many doors as i could on my way to the shower, then stayed under the hot water until my skin couldn't take it anymore. when i finished, i went back to my bedroom and happened to glance at my cell.

there was a missed call: my roommate.

i called my roommate's cell again. it rang a few times, and just when i thought it was going to go to her voicemail again, a voice answered. it was him. the ex-boyfriend. "hello," he said, although i know very damned well that the caller i.d. had informed him that it was me on the other end.

"hi," i said, shortly. "are you guys having fun?" it was more a statement than a question.

he tried to bullshit wiht me, tried to turn it back on me. he is good at that -- he is a weasel. slimy, greasy, and full of bullshit. but the conversation ended less than 30 seconds later, when i said sardonically, "hope you guys are having a blast."

i decided i couldn't stay there any longer. it was 2 a.m. i was sleepy and tired. but i could not just go to sleep knowing that there were right there next door to me, plain as day, making out and fucking.

are you fucking kidding me. are you fucking serious.

i will not put up with that shit.

so i started packing some things into my duffel bag, slamming drawers and doors. in between the slamming, when it was quiet, i could hear their murmured voices. they had stopped whatever they were doing because they could hear me and knew i was mad, and they knew exactly why i was mad, and they were now murmuring to themselves about it..

when i finished packing my bag, i slammed the door to my bedroom shut, trod to the front door, opened it loudly, and slammed that one, too.

i hope they could hear every thought and emotion that went behind the slamming of all that shit.

i am now elsewhere. the ex-boyfriend has my cell number and has texted me a couple of times, trying to guilt-trip me into coming back, under the guise of needing a ride back to his place.

i don't fucking care. i don't owe him shit, least of all a ride back.

find your own way back, asshole.

as for you, roomie. i know you are drunk and don't have as much control over yourself as you would if you were sober.

still, this is it. i wash my hands of you -- as a roommate and a former lover.

i don't care how drunk you are. you could've left him on the sofa.

but you didn't. you joined him under the blanket i'd provided him, while he pretended to sleep under the cover, and then you invited him back to your room, and you both consciously walked to your room and started fucking around.

of all the things, that crosses the line.

you did it right in front of my face. and you didn't care about how i would feel about that.

that's fucked up and wrong.

i know you know it. and i am glad you know it.

i just hope it was worth it. i just hope fucking that asshole was worth losing my friendship and loyalty.

nothing can repair this. it is done.

yet again

FUCK  YOU.

 

asshole.

thinking

irreparable

i am kind of fighting off a buzz right now. i have had -- mmmm, maybe three glasses of wine. i was done for midway through the second one. the third one was just a bonus. imagine me saying all that i am now going to say with a slur in my words. yes, i am that far gone.

talk about finding reasons to not be roommates. a reason has just pretty much fell in my lap.

of all the things to say. there are many things you could have said to finally put the nail in the coffin. there are ways of letting me down easy, and there are ways of letting me down hard. either way, those are ways of letting me down, period, whether easy or hard, and i would get the picture. but what you are saying makes no sense.

i am feeling very embarrassed. i am very close to tears. i don't want any words of i-told-you-so or i'm-sorry-but-it-had-to-be-done from you, dear readers. i know you have been saying it all along, and i have tended to nod and agree with you while still sustaining this hope, which probably means i actually did not listen to you at all nor pay attention to your words. but now, of all times, you don't have to say a word, and i already know what you are saying.

based on what was said tonight, i have no reason to be here at all. no reason, except by virtue of choice. i would be choosing to stay here, despite all else. i have had two therapists, now, tell me the same thing: "why are you still living there? it makes no sense, and it is only to your own detriment. you need to leave and take care of yourself."

i am actually fighting back tears right now. i never had tears before when i was writing about this. there were no need for tears. but i have them now. they are being wrenched from me.

if you want me to let it go and not be like this, why don't you stop doing this to me.

it just makes me wonder why i have gone so far above and beyond for you than what i would ever have done for someone who was just a friend. what makes you so special that i would want to do such things and that you would accept such gestures as just a friend. there has been a disconnect not only in how i saw and reacted to things but also you.

why? why . . . ?

my self-esteem . . . is kind of crushed. you can reason with me all you want, and take most or all of the blame onto yourself. but i still can't help but feel a setback for me, personally. a big one.

i was devastated before. but i feel even worse than that right now.

slapped

in the face again.

crossroads

these are uncertain times for me.

i'm not sure what my next steps should be.

i'm kind of scared.

escapee

i'm in l.a. i'm on a self-imposed exile. a temporary excursion to escape my small, petty problems.

she's at his house tonight.

i thought a road-trip would be just the thing for me. hitting the road to flee the demons. when you're on the road, always up ahead lies your unseen but still desired goal. somewhere, out there, even if you can't see it, is your destination -- a tiny pin-prick up in the distance. but you hurtle yourself towards it, towards the horizon, in pursuit of it and only it. it promises completion. finalization. oblivion. enlightenment. nirvana.

forgetfulness.

forgiveness.

i felt like crying as i drove. but the tears never really surfaced and, to this very minute, remain unspent.

i realized why i crave road-trips so much, especially when the going gets tough. it not only offers a physical means of escape. but they also wear me out. i crave the introspection as well as the physical exhaustion. to have every muscle gets so pained from the tension and stillness that driving requires, and also my mind completely worn out from running through the same thoughts, ideas, opinions, theories, and imaginings. i try to drive for as long as i can go in one sitting -- two hours, three, maybe four -- before giving in to my body and pulling the car over to a rest stop for respite. it's only when the physical pains and discomforts match those that i feel internally that i can call it a good trip. and what a way to get perspective on things. with the chaos that i know goes on inside my own mind due to my chronic over-thinking and over-worrying, i need that perspective. i need something to distract my physical body to let me know i only have this one body cavity for life. that i need to take care of it. and that no matter what people do to me to cause me pain inside, i just gotta keep on living.

now that i'm hundreds of miles from home, i . . . really don't know what to do.

when i left, all i want to do was get away. and now that i got away . . . i don't know what to do.

all i know is that i am here. and she's at his house tonight. i drove out hundreds of miles away to clear my head, and no one knows where i am, let alone gives a damn.

and that, more than anything, finally says a lot for me.

*laughing quietly to self*

she lied to me about it again, btw. but i don't give a fuck anymore.

things were good between us the past few days. we talked and hung out as best friends and roommates do.

and i knew she was planning to see him tonight but didn't say anything.

before i left on my road-trip, i asked her if she was going to be okay at the house by herself while i was gone; she hates and is scared of sleeping there by herself. she said she would be fine and that she would probably spend the first night i was gone at her parents. but i had already known at that time that she had made plans to spend the night at the other guy's house and knew it was a lie. and from my silence, i know she knows that i know. but i let it go and just said "goodbye." and she said goodbye, too.

i've already told her: don't lie to me. either tell me or don't tell me something. but don't lie.

she lies frequently. she always used to lie to other people in order to spend time with me, when we were together. so i know her ways. to see her use those lies on me now . . . . she would say that she only lies to me to protect me. to that, i would say that she lies to protect herself, and that it is a sign of disrespect and lack of trust and friendship on her part towards me.

but hey, maybe i'm just being judgmental.

:-T

my mom is bemused. all she knows is that i have randomly decided to go off somewhere. i know she was going to try to stop me before coming to the conclusion that it would be futile and i am a grown-assed adult already and i should be left to my own devices, even if what i do does not make sense.

after i checked into my hotel, i spent the evening watching basketball on t.v., and towards the end of the denver nuggets-l.a. lakers game, i decided to draw myself a bath.

i haven't taken a good, old-fashioned bath in quite a while.

when there was enough hot water in the tub, i disrobed and let myself sink inside the tub.

it felt great.

when i get back home, i am going to be a new me.

i'm going to stop being so dependent on my relationship with dimples.

i'm going to be a newer, fresher version of myself.

i'm going to be seeing my new therapist.

i'm going to have an open mind about the possibilities and opportunities i have before me.

did you know . . . with all the energy i've expended in being miserable about dimples, i never really rejoiced in the recent news i've received about being promoted.

yes, me. i. i got promoted. as soon as the last of the paperwork gets finished, i will have my job classification upped one level and receive a small salary bump as well.

no, it's not attorney-hood. but hey, i do still make a somewhat decent living, so i can't complain.

:-T

just goes to show how consumed i've been with the negatives lately. there are other positives in my life to be had.

girls.

i think i'm done with them.

:-T

stagnant

although i am now going outside my health services provider network in order to get therapeutic help, i still have to wait until my first appointment, which is scheduled for early next week. after doing research on therapists who do business in my general locale, i settled upon an older woman who looked nice and seemed like she'd be a good listener. her name is foreign-sounding, but when i talked to her on the phone, she had no accent. there was just something about her picture that i've fixed upon -- something intangible. i think it's because her eyes looked astute and alert.

after i settled upon this woman, i sent her an e-mail early in the morning, and she responded via telephone call when she got to her office early in the evening. she apparently has office hours only in the evening, which of course works for me.

even though it's been a few weeks now that my body and mind's been on this high-anxiety alert, i feel rather deadened. like, i'm already over it. these past few weeks of just stewing on my thoughts and emotions, with no outlet except for this blog, kind of has desensitized me to the problematic nature of my relationship with dimples. there are certain things i dread when i interact with her, and yet i'm so used to feeling that dread. and i have lost the urgent need to talk with someone about her . . . .

but i know i will anyway. i'm quite looking forward to my first visit with the new therapist. in our introductory conversation over the phone, she stated that she tends to see patients as frequently as once a week. i kind of winced when i heard that but said nothing. i have no intention of seeing her once a week. the website that i found this therapist on lists her customary fees as between $100-140. when i called her, i knew i would be forking over at least that, just for the sake of being able to talk to her. but i cannot afford to see her once a week.

the lengths i go to, to find a friendly, helpful ear. . . .

:-T

it is possible that, upon hearing my story, my therapist may coax me into the decision of leaving this house, of no longer being dimples' roommate.

believe me, i have entertained the thought.

but it'd be hard.

in one of our more recent heated discussions, dimples pretty much suggested it as well. she had tears in her eyes and her teeth were gritted, but she said the words, "maybe you should think about leaving. you can't handle me moving on with my life and seeing other people, and i can't handle having to worry about your feelings all the time. . . "

after we each had had our say and the heated discussion cooled off, i asked her simply, "do you really want me to move out? i can start getting my stuff together." and she said, "no."

so much baggage. so many emotions, all wrought out over one person. . . . what the fuck. what the hell.

i'm off work today. sick. been sick all this week. i had been looking forward to this particular week because i had requested thursday off previously, and with the furl0ugh day this friday, i would've been able to have a five-day weekend. i had been eager to hit the road and go somewhere -- anywhere. the destination wasn't as important as just the ability to get away. i wanted to get away from her, from here, from everything -- and just be on my own a while.

but coming down with flu symptoms since after my 5k run on saturday has slowed me down a lot. i'm better today and am looking forward to hitting the road later on today if not early tomorrow morning. but it was just not physically possible even as soon as yesterday.

of course, a part of me doesn't want to go anywhere. there is a nice long weekend -- a part of which i could be spending with dimples and her kid.

but i can't. i won't.

because while i'm spending those parts with them, another part of me will be wondering when. when is she going to spending time with him?

i know if i leave on my road trip tonight or tomorrow morning, i will never know for sure if she spent the weekend with him.

and yes, that possibility that they will be spending time together . . . bugs me. it shouldn't, but it does.

and yet that is even more reason for me to hit the road. right? if these thoughts are still in my mind, if i'm still feeling jealousy at the very thought of them together, then i just need to go and not look back. i need to learn to stop caring. i need to stop having my feelings tied so intricately to what she does, who she sees.

she's right. it is none of my business if she dates, who she dates.

i gotta let it go.

there are other worse things coming up around the bend for me to worry about -- studying for the february bar again and another major decision that i have to be making again pretty soon.

i cannot let myself be tied down by these petty human engagements.

my health care provider sucks ass

number of days it takes between intake and your first scheduled visit with your therapist -- 20.

amount of notice received for your therapist canceling on you -- 0.

number of days until your therapist's next available date to see you -- 24.

total amount of relief felt when you just go ahead and schedule an appointment with a therapist not covered by your insurance but whom, based on your research, you know to be familiar with dyke/women's/ethnic minority issues and who also seems to have a rather nice face --

-- priceless.

a day off from work

i have had a busy morning.

i ran three miles. went to visit my eye doctor. went to the tanning salon. all by 11:30 a.m.

dimples and i had made plans to take a trip out into the country along with her kid.

i had been reluctant about going. i did not want to go when she was still fresh from fucking that guy.

but after that heated argument she and i had a couple of days ago at work, i knew it would look bad if i didn't.

the heated argument was about him again. and me and her. i don't know if it really resolved anything, but we both had to get stuff out of our systems.

today, it looks like our plan for driving out into the country have fallen through, and it's a no-go. which sucks for me because i had come back to the house and am there right now. but at least i would not be carrying on the farce of pretending all is good and well when they no longer are.

she looks great today. very well put together. her skin flawless. when i went to take a shower to finally wash away all the sweat from my run this morning, i saw a vibrator in the shower stall. not just any vibrator, but the one she and i had bought together just half a year ago.

i don't want to know.

but apparently she had a good time with her man all night into morning.

i'm okay, though. i'm fine.

going running helped me a lot. it focused my mind away from the here and now, and all i concentrated on was maintaining the rhythm of my limbs, controlling my breathing, striving to last even longer -- just another five minutes, just another quarter of a mile, just another minute.

it was just the thing i needed after how my morning started out. i was in a cranky mood, and i got cut off by a car that refused to merge in behind me (i had been driving at a faster speed, with the flow of traffic). so i started honking the horn obnoxiously -- long blaring honks -- and flippin' the bird. and the smug-assed, obnoxious cunt who had cut me off slammed on her brakes right there in the middle of the road (this is a single lane, two-way road, by the way, with a 55 mph posted speed limit), and gets out of her car to yell at me. it was one of those black chicks with the long, fake nails that have gold detailing. she started yelling at me that we could take it to the side of the road if i wanted, and i yelled at her to get her dumb skanky bitch ass back in her car and get the fuck out of my way. she finally did so. but you can imagine the state i was in when she finally took off. the cunt then proceeded to drive along at less than 50 miles per hour, so i just kind of rode her ass for a while. seriously, if she can afford to cruise along at less than the posted speed limit, then why'd she cut me off in the first place, as if she had been in some great hurry? just ease your ass into the clear and empty spot right behind me!

fucking cunt.

so at the next four-way stop sign, less than half a mile away, i waited to see which way she would go. i was planning on making a left-hand turn so long as she just kept straight -- that way i would be rid of her skanky obnoxious ass forever. i think she was waiting for me, too. but finally she just headed straight, and then i turned on my left-turn signal and proceeded in that direction.

punk ass skanky piece of shit. what a waste of life and space.

yeah, anyhow -- so that's why the run was good for me.

the trip to the tanning salon was the best, though. i hadn't gone in about a year. and so i know i needed it. i needed the chance to simply lay back, be warmed, be embraced by the engulfing warmth, and let my mind relax.

it was great.

i let myself get into a deep state. in my mind, dimples was standing in front of me, with a knife in her hand, raised in the air to plunge in my torso, in my heart. with each breath in, i saw her arm raise up anew, and with each breath out, i saw the knife come streaking down at me towards my chest. but in my mind, each time that happened, the knife didn't penetrate the skin. instead, the knife's blade crumpled like paper upon contact with my skin, and i remained intact, whole, and alive.

i can do this. i can detach myself. i can let her try to hurt me, but i can also try to get myself to emerge unscathed.

i can control this. i can control how much i hurt and how much i let others get to me. i don't have to be the wounded animal every time.

right now

she is entertaining him at the house.

he is going to eat dinner there tonight.

then they are going to fuck.

and then they are going to fall asleep together.

i, of course, am not there. i am staying elsewhere tonight.

i should not be bothered by all this. it should be old hat. they've been seeing each other for three months now. i was oblivious for two of those months. and nothing about our friendship had changed, really . . . .

but it does bother me.

i hate to begrudge others when they are having a good time. and i especially should not begrudge dimples for her good time.

but it's hard not to. it's hard to relax and just let things go.

. . . . . . . .

unsent -- again

dear dimples –

 

what the fuck is happening.

 

i almost can't deal.  i want to talk to you about it.  but i know we can't.  we both would get upset, angry, emotional.  say hurtful things.

 

you lied to me about how you would spend your friday night.  i know you did.

 

so that's why i decided to take the whole weekend for myself.  that's why i was not at the house for the halloween party you threw for your family.

 

my thing was, i have done so much for you, gone out of my way so much for you.  then you hurt me and i began to feel like you have been taking me for granted.

 

i put you and your kid first.  always.

 

and when you lied to me, not just before but also after you told me about your relationship with him, i saw that you didn't put me first or second or even third or fourth.

 

that hurts.  you have no idea how much that hurts me.

 

it's not fair for me to always be the one going out of my way, going out on that extra limb and be barely hanging on with my bare fingertips just to be there for you.

 

it meant a lot when you told me, last week, that you would not have been able to get everything you needed done without me.  that's the first time you ever acknowledged it.

 

but i just don't like being told stories to.  i feel like i am no different than the other people you have told stories to. 

 

i don't need stories.  i want . . .

 

i don't know what i want.

 

to go back to how we were, before you told me?  before i found out about him?  when you were lying to me and i somewhat suspected but was otherwise ignorant?

 

to move on?

 

to just be roommates and not even friends anymore?

 

i have been really distant with you the past few days.  and i'm sorry.  but i'm doing what i can to recuperate.  i need this time.  but i know you don't understand.  you think that things can be as cool and laid-back and as full of trust as before.

 

they can be. . . .  but i need time.  is that not fair? 

 

you've broken my heart yet again.  i need time.

 

i know it's not fair of me to tell you all these things going on in my head and yet still be acting distant with you.  i know that's what has precipitated our little near-shouting match when i called you at your desk phone.

 

that near-shouting match highlighted a few things for me:

 

first, you don't really know me.

 

second, you are frustrated with me, so you want to pick fights with me.

 

third, i'm not the only one who needs time.  apparently.  we need time.

 

first, you don't really know me.

 

this becomes more and more glaringly obvious the more we start having disagreements about work, co-workers, and other things.

 

you don't know me.

 

you jump to conclusions about what you think i'm thinking.  and then you ream me hard for thinking those alleged thoughts.

 

i am sick of having to defend myself.  i am sick of trying to patiently wait for you to stop yelling before i can let you know you're wrong.

 

just thinking about those yelling matches, especially that one today, makes my stomach queasy again. . . .

 

i don't have to agree with you on every point.  i don't have to agree with your opinions about other people.  i don't have to like everyone you like or dislike everyone you dislike.  i'm not saying you're wrong about them, but neither am i saying that i'm wrong about them.  people are just . . . like prisms.  depending on your vantage point, you will see the light bounce off the prism in certain directions.  but the reflections won't be the same on all sides.

 

you will see certain things that are good and attractive in some people as well as things that are horrible and unattractive.  from my vantage point, i will see the same things, and they may seem the same as or different for yours.

 

in my head, it is okay to have differing perspectives.

 

why can't it be okay with you?

 

not only that, but what's up with jumping to conclusions about what i think anyway?

 

just because i personally like someone doesn't mean i think they are necessarily geniuses at what they do.  they may be dumb asses for all i know, but when i only see one side of that person and i happen to like what i see, what's wrong with that?  i will, of course, take your perspective into consideration and will be put on my guard about it, but i will not shun or dislike that person just because you do.  if that was the case, then it should be a two-way street.  you don't talk to the people i dislike, either.  like only the people whom i like.  but doesn't that sound fucking ridiculous?  seriously!

 

second, you are frustrated with me, so you want to pick fights with me.

 

i am not giving you the courtesy of being honest with you.  but in my head, i am only doling out what i get. 

 

but you are not aware of that.  you only know that i've been distant.  i have not been mean, i have not been cold, i have not been disrespectful.  all weekend, i've answered your text messages in a timely manner, and i have acted pretty friendly, as if nothing has happened.

 

the only thing is that i don't initiate contact anymore.  and when i need something work-related from you, i've asked politely.  but you can't say that i am rude or disrespectful.

 

but i know you've noticed the change.  and i can't help it.

 

i thought we were friends.  okay, i thought we were more than friends – i thought we were friends who were fuck buddies who had the potential of growing into a more serious relationship.

 

i was wrong.  and i am dealing with it.  i'm moving on.

 

you – you led me on.  then you lied to me.  then you told the truth.  and then you've begun lying again.

 

what am i supposed to do – be fine with that?  now that i know better?

 

i can't.

 

you hurt me so substantively, so tremendously, that it may take me months to recover.  you've taken a whole year of my life, knowingly playing with my emotions, then lying to me.  this is not something i can just get over in a day, a week, a month.  do you not understand this?

 

obviously, you don't.  obviously, you're short-sighted enough to think that i am just being fussy and withdrawn over nothing and am such a girl and that there is no rhyme or reason to me.

 

but in my head, this has been a long time in coming.  and in my head, it only makes sense that i dish out what i have gotten from you.

 

if you are going to hide or lie, i will hide and lie.

 

if you are going to cover up what, to me, is an important part of your life – your relationship with him – then i think that entitles me to do the same.

 

karma.  you and i have talked about karma before.

 

this is karma coming right back at you.

 

i know what you would say.  your relationship with him has nothing to do with me.  that has not changed the dynamics of our friendship or our status as roommates.

 

and yet . . . yes, it has.  for all of the reasons outlined above, it has.

 

so you picking fights. . . . i know it's because you are oblivious to all this and so you are trying, whether consciously or not, to find valid reasons to get mad at me and take out all your anger on me.

 

i know the time is coming when we will have to have a talk about things.  in fact, i am thinking that, tonight, it will come.

 

i'm scared about that.  but prepared.

 

i don't know what i'll say nor how much.  i just know it will come.

 

and for me, even though it hurts to acknowledge, i know it just means that

 

third, i'm not the only one who needs time.  apparently.  we need time.

 

it hurts me to even acknowledge this.

 

my biggest fear is that maybe our relationship was just so flitting and insignificant to you that, once we take time on our own to let things die down for the sake of coming back together as better friends than before, you will be gone.  you won't want to save the friendship.

 

it took me so long to get to this point.

 

and yeah, i know . . . for what?  you never really wanted to be more than fuck buddies.

 

nonetheless, i worked hard.  i felt like your earning your trust was one of the more important things i could be striving for.  i have sacrificed a lot, in ways that are quantifiable and not, to get it.  and now . . . i still don't want to lose that.

 

i know we will talk about it.  i hope you at least try to understand my point of view.  i know you would want to hear what i have to say.  but hearing does not necessarily mean understanding.  and that's what i hope for – understanding.

 

it's only fair because, as hard as it may seem to you . . .

 

i do understand your point of view.

 

with much love always, even now –

 

abbagirl

 

liar

okay.

i just did something that i know was wrong of me to do.

and it's one of those things which, once you do, you don't like what you learn but are nonetheless both enlightened and also stunned to learn.

dimples left her crackphone on the counter while she went to take care of her kid's potty urges.

i was in the kitchen clearing away dinner dishes.

and i peeked at the still-lit screen. i couldn't help myself.

it contained a list of all the people who had most recently texted her.

i saw my name in the middle of the list. i had texted her to let her know that, as agreed, i was making dinner, and it'd be ready at 7:30 p.m. one or two names above mine was his name. and there was a line from his latest text message that showed beneath his name.

it said:

you are quite right. you don't want to kick abbagirl out of her own home.

that text has floored me.

i wish i hadn't seen that. and yet glad i did.

but what the fuck does that mean?

ever since i found out about this whole affair, i have been the first to say, "hey. if you ever want me out of the house, just say the word. i have no qualms about staying somewhere else for the night." i have lots of family and friends who totally would not mind me crashing at their place for a night or two. it's no big fucking deal. the last thing i would want to do is be a hindrance to their whole fucking relationship. this isn't even my fucking home! i never call it as such. i always refer to it as "the house." even when i'm talking to dimples, i never say, "hey, i'll see you at home!" i say, "i'll meet you later at the house!"

kick me out! i don't fucking care!

on second thought . . . i think she is using me as an excuse.

whenever i have offered to leave the house so that she can bring him back here for a night, she has always told me, "no, i'm not ready for that."

i was never sure if she was lying or not, when she said that. so maybe she wasn't. but she's still lying to him about the reasons why she won't bring him back here.

maybe that's it. . . .

but no wonder he has been pretty much more unfriendly to me than i have been to him. i actually make an effort to be nice and civil and appear unchanged in my interactions with him. he doesn't.

and maybe it's because he sees me as kind of a cock-blocking obstacle. . . .

but some cock-blocking obstacle i am. they are seeing each other tomorrow night, i'm sure. but dimples just lied to me about it. she said she will be working at her other job tomorrow night. i think it's a total fib. i think she'll be staying at his place tomorrow night.

fuck her.

is this what we've resorted to now?

from lies to blunt truth, back to lies.

when dimples came back into the room, i told her that i was gonna stay away for the weekend. she seemed surprised. she doesn't like to stay by herself at the house. she gets paranoid. "i'll only be gone tomorrow night to work," she said lamely. "i'll be around saturday and sunday."

"cool," i said. and i said something else harmlessly. but i didn't say anything that would indicate that i would change my intentions due to these revelations.

i know where you're going tomorrow night and what you'll be doing.

what's the point of all that? you want me to trust you, trust in our friendship, and then you go and do that. you lie.

i'm so over this.

stress attack

i swear i get at least one each month. i get to a point where i'm in such an agitated state that my heart starts beating frenetically and hard, my blood pressure goes up, and i am in a tense state -- almost to the point of tears.

the one i had yesterday was probably the worst one i'd ever experienced thus far. and the causes are not only things stemming from my relationship with dimples -- as friend and roommate and former hook-up -- but also from the office, the other people at work, family, and a whole host of other issues and side issues.

i almost can't deal.

i should not care so much. i shouldn't care about maintaining good relationships with all people. i shouldn't care about what i think i should do to make life easier for others. i'm only one person, and i'm not responsibility for the well-being, success, and happiness of other people and things.

i tried hard to remind myself of this yesterday as my nerves frayed to the last thread. but it was just hard to extricate myself once i was mired deep in the middle of things.

one of the things that caused me to suffer some internal fits yesterday was . . . i saw dimples and her lover in the same room at the same time for the first time ever, since finding out about their relationship.

it was hard.

i'd seen him around here and there earlier in the week. he never really talked to me. i would say hi and do my best to act as per my usual with him -- light-hearted, easy banter. but it was hard, and i could feel the smile on my face being forced.

it ended up being more effort than he put forth. he would just smile and walk away.

he knows i know. and i'm sure it's discomfitting to him because now the secret is no longer contained between two people but three.

i don't give a fuck.

but as hard as it was to try to engage in usual, normal interaction with him when i would randomly see him on his own, i couldn't take it when i saw the both of them in a larger group setting, an informal office surprise birthday party, joking easily between each other, cracking each other up, with everyone else so oblivious to the deeper, closer relationship they had.

i couldn't take it. i stayed as long as was polite, until the end of the birthday speeches, then left while everyone else started filling up on grub and cake.

dimples and i have stopped talking about that relationship. sometimes his name will come up in conversation when we talk about random things going on at work, and i will grimace when i hear his name or hesitate before saying his name myself. but otherwise, the topic is avoided. i know that they haven't really had a chance to go out (and fuck) in a while, due to dimples' crazy, hectic schedule. and i've been hoping that he will get sick of waiting for her and break things off in a huff. but hey, this is dimples here. i swear, she has at least five people in love or lust with her -- at least whom i know of. there is just something about her. . . .

anyhow, after i left the office birthday party rather abruptly, another co-worker friend called me at my desk on the telephone about 20 minutes later and softly asked if i was going to get grub, since everyone had already finished eating. my stomach was doing quite a number; i have been nauseous practically non-stop these past two weeks, and another friend noted concernedly that it seemed like i was losing weight. but i forced myself to cheerily say that i indeed wanted to grab a plate of something and went back down to the party.

everyone was still there but had already eaten their fill. i immediately saw dimples and her lover. they were seated near each other, looking as nonchalant as ever as they mingled with other co-workers. i had to grit my teeth and swallow down the turbulent nausea that seemed to want to lurch into my throat and force myself to get a plate to fill up with food.

this past week or so, when i have not seen him or seen the two of them together in one place, i have thought i could go back to normal and pretend nothing was amiss. but i'd still see her furtively checking her cell phone. and i can't not think about it nor forget.

nonetheless, i thought i could deal.

but seeing them yesterday . . . it's a million new stabs to the heart.

fuck 'em.

being deprived of sex with him these past few weeks, i feel as if dimples is started to check me out more and more. it's not purposeful, though. i know it's an unconscious gesture she is unaware of doing until after the fact, and she happens to bring her eyes up to mine and see that i noticed every movement of her eyes. but i never say anything.

i know she does it because it has been a while since we have been together, and when we were, it has never been bad on her part; she has always cum and cum pretty hard whenever i fucked her, if i do say so myself. and often more than once within a short span of each other.

well, she knows where to find me if she wants me.

but i won't be second fiddle. i won't be the second choice.

and that's what i feel like, whenever i see her eyes flit down me. i feel like she's only checking me out because she hasn't fucked the other guy in a while and is feeling horny.

he's the barrier, and he's in the way.

and i just keep hearing dimples' voice in my head . . . she recently said, after that one night when she and i sat down to rehash this whole situation and try to understand each other: "we will never be together, abbagirl." her voice was frustrated as she said this. and she also said that very same night, "you are such a burden to me."

i keep hearing these things in my head . . .

fine, then.

but there are other ways of defining "burden." she seriously thinks this whole thing, her fucking with me this whole past year, has not been a burden for me, too?

we will never be together.

fine. you're right.

always the do-gooder

i went to see my therapist earlier this week.

didn't really get a chance to talk with her, though. i was supposed to be there only for a very brief sketch of my issues, but the focus was supposed to be the processing of my paperwork.

but i still went into my issues a bit. and i could tell my therapist was fascinated.

it's not every day you come across an azngrl you presume to be straight but who blatantly asserts she is gay and that she has a roommate whom she has fucked and is in love with and who invited her to be in a threesome and who also tortures herself with mental images of her roommate fucking another guy she knows.

it's all very compelling drama, i'm sure.

i am still pretty fucked up.

there are glimmers when i think i can do this. i can be her friend, help her out, give her relationship advice so that this things she's got going on with this guy, whom i know and who should totally fucking thanking me for patiently counseling her, and not go mad.

but those glimmers are so few and far between. it's hard. it really is fucking hard.

who does this? i am a fucked up person. what person, in her right mind, would have bumbled down upon the very same road i did in order to get to this point?

who?

she and i spent most of the day together today. we were traveling together, working together. it was a long, long day. when we got done with our off-site work, she drove us back to the office. there were times when we looked at each other, in between moments of conversation, and she looked like she wanted to kiss me. and she made some random comment about me smelling good.

it's the sort of stuff that gives hope to a plaintive heart.

but i'm not buying it. i can't.

months ago, these things would've suckered me in -- hook, line, and sinker.

but this time, i won't give in.

i want to.

but i won't.

i have to say she was amazing in action today. she knows her stuff. she is astute and a leader. i just kind of took a back seat and watched her.

i was impressed.

as she took charge, i also checked her out. i couldn't help it.

and i have to admit, just seeing her in action, i just wanted to throw her on the table and fuck her.

i think i understand the dynamics of how she works.

i don't think she is using me, per se. i think she cares a lot about me. i think she is still attracted to me. and i think she would still love being friends with benefits.

but the real reason why she likes being with me is because of the control factor.

i have given her a lot of control.

and the main thing that is so important for her to control is her pride.

she has never had to make a fool of herself in front of me. i have done that more than enough on my own. i'm the one who forsakes pride for the sake of another. but she has never done that with me. in fact, other than her daughter, i am probably the only other person over whom she has, whether implicitly or explicitly, consciously or not, exerted quite a bit of control without having to make much of an effort. and i also let her keep her pride. i don't let her make a fool out of herself. i don't let anyone make a fool out of him-/herself. but in the end, that only makes an ass out of me.

i can't believe how good i was -- at least for a while there. we had such a good, albeit tiring, day working together for a common purpose. then we came back to the house, and it became, in good part, all about him. the other guy. the man she's fucking. the guy to whom i've always been friendly to before but, if i saw again, would not be very pleased. but i'd be expected to fake it. pretend nothing was amiss and that i actually still like him. and by doing that, i'd be showing my approval.

i gave her advice about him. advice that someone should have given her about me when she and i were dating. advice about not losing her temper and playing it cool and not saying something that would ruin the relationship all because of her friggin' pride.

i gave her such good fucking advice.

and it seriously was a hard thing to do.

after that conversation, i got all quiet. she and i had drunk a beer when we got home. i opened a second and got all moody. i've been drinking at least one bottle of beer every night for, i dunno, a long time. and not eating. i can't help the moodiness. . . . but she noticed and asked me if i was mad. i denied it. but she didn't really talk to me after that, so i'm sure she knows i'm still in my mood.

she can't have it all ways. she can't expect me to be her friend and confidante and give her great relationship advice that is only guaranteed to prolong that stupid relationship she has with him that has been driving me nuts and be happy about it. she cannot be fucking stupid about how i feel at this point. especially not after the things we have said to each other about it and my honesty with her on this topic. i will do what i think is the right thing, which is help her, as her friend, find her happiness. but i cannot fucking lie and suppress my emotions when they bubble to the surface and cannot be suppressed.

she cannot have it all ways.

i am at the house tonight. but i am staying away this weekend. i will not be here. i'm going to make plans and keep myself busy and get both physical and temporal distance from all this bullshit.

one day at a time. i can do this. i can do this. i can do this.

fuck this shit.

unsent

an anonymous comment just now prompted me to go through this blog's archives. i wanted to go back and re-read some of the stuff i've written about dimples.

i've gotten over her before; i can get over her again.

i found this one post i had written but never published. i wrote it as a letter to be unsent, and it was written in february 2009.

reading it has -- given me more clarity.

here it is:

dear dimples --

there are times when i think this could work.

we can just be friends. we can just hang out. we can bitch to each other about our lame bosses, co-workers, and work. we can trust each other and know that we'll be there for each other.

but i have to do a lot of double-checking of myself.

i have to tell myself to just relax.

i've been letting you be the one to initiate all contact -- have you noticed? sure, every once in a while, i'll be the one initiating. but mostly, i've gotten myself into passive mode, and you have been the one to take initiative.

i've been excusing a lot of your behavior. i know you've got a lot going on -- your kid is your priority, you've got people in your life who create drama. i know that, if i call or text you out of the blue, 90 percent of the time i won't get a response.

that's just how it is.

this friendship of ours -- it works. it works because we both want it to work. we have also seen each other at both our best and our worst, in ways and depths we've shown no one else and that no one else could fathom. and we've emerged from it as tight as a pack of wolves.

i know you like the back of my hand, as you do me.

that being said, do you know that i am now afraid of you?

i'm afraid of getting too close to you -- again.

i'm afraid of catching a whiff of your scent, that elusive, wonderful, familiar scent of yours -- it sends me into a tizzy inside when i catch that scent.

i just don't want it to happen again. . . .

because of what we've been through together, you're now one of my best, most closest friend. i love you as a friend. i can't imagine not being able to continue sharing secrets with you, being around you, seeing your daughter continue to grow and get bigger and create her personality/

but at the same time, just being your friend can hurt.

as your friend, i only want what's best for you. i know you need my friendship as much as i need yours; ours is a unique friendship.

but can i keep at it like this for long? sometimes i wonder . . . .

you've made it clear that you don't want to get completely drunk around me anymore. you seem to not mind what happens when you get drunk -- but the repercussions of my emotional attachment makes you wary about ever letting yourself drink to that point again. i know you'd want to, but only if the sex was meaningless and didn't get in the way of our friendship.

i don't ever want to not be your friend. i enjoy your company and conversation way too much.

we seemed to have moved beyond the stuff we used to argue about before -- me being an elitist snob who doesn't comprehend the difficult lived realities that "real" people suffer. or me trying too much to "save" you and "help" you when you don't need saving or helping. oh, i know i still end up unthinkingly saying things that you think are elitist -- i see the shadow fall over your eyes when i do say certain things. but you bite back your response while i wince inside.

maybe we're not supposed to be friends. we're just too different. i feel myself changing and trying to conform to what i think you want me to be -- more colloquial, more "street," less wordy, less serious, less self-involved. i don't think you like me as much when you remember i've got more education than you.

maybe this isn't supposed to work. maybe we're supposed to have enough of each other by now.

maybe.

you've hurt my feelings more times than i can count. you've let me know often enough that, while on paper, i may be better than you and other people we know because of the education i was "lucky" to have, in reality, i'm worse than scum because of my "cluelessness" about how "real people" suffer. you flake out on me quite a bit when we make plans to hang out.

as a result, i'm doing what i have to do -- which is try to be your friend while also trying to keep myself detached.

make no mistake, i want to continue being your friend, dimples.

but why does it have to be so damned hard sometimes?

the cliche of the pining romantic

i've gone and become a pathetic cliche.

i haven't been eating. i've got that gnawing sensation of hunger in my tummy. but no desire to eat. the idea of eating makes me nauseous. all i've consumed today are 1/5 cup of coffee, a taro boba drink, and a corona with 2 lime slices.

yesterday, i had 1/2 cup of coffee, a couple of shrimp chips, and a corona.

i've been treating her differently. and i'm sure she's noticed. but i don't think she gives a fuck. she keeps her cell phone grasped tightly in her hand at all hours. even when i can't see her, i can still hear her tapping at it, texting him.

she's head over heels.

fuck her.

it all just makes me reassess even my friendship with her. even as friends, things are not equal. i always put her before me. her comfort, her needs, her propensities take precedence over mine. when i thought there was still a chance that she would be mine, i saw it as just a necessary sacrifice on my part for a greater good -- her.

and now i see it's all for nothing. her ideas of friendship and what makes a good friend are totally and utterly different from mine.

case in point:

there was an emergency today with one of my dogs. i drove to the vet's office straight-away. she told me she would come, too, but that she would drop her kid off with a relative and meet me there.

thanks. that's great. i appreciate you coming along. i really do.

we were hungry. we had missed dinner, and by the end of the visit to the vet, we were starved. she said she would pick up some food that her relative had cooked; she had smelled it when she dropped her kid off, and it had smelled delicious. i smiled politely and tried to demur the food, but she insisted so i agreed.

i went home and dropped the dog off there before heading to the grocery store to pick up some food for him. when i got back from the grocery store, she wasn't there.

in fact, it took her over an hour to get back.

it should've only taken maybe 30 minutes.

when she got back, i had actually been about to cook my own grub.

she had already eaten.

she was late because the relatives had kept talking.

i politely took the dish she gave me, and i started to put away the pan i had just greased up -- as if i were gonna eat it.

but when she wasn't looking, i put the dish in the fridge.

she did notice after a few minutes, though, so before she could ask me if i was going to eat it, i told her that i had already nibbled on stuff and wasn't as hungry anymore.

i don't want to eat it.

i know it was really nice of her to bring me back the grub. and she did accompany me to the vet.

but as a friend, i would have taken a different approach with regard to the food.

i would've hauled ass fast.

i wouldn't have taken the time to enjoy the food and satisfy my own hunger first when i knew my friend was also hungry and waiting for that same food.

i would've said, "i'd love to stay and chat, and thanks so much for watching my kid, but my roomie's really hungry, and i've got to get this grub to her fast."

two very different definitions of friendship.

and yes, let's not go into the whole thing of me wanting to be more than just friends with her and having a different perspective on that, compared to her. that's a whole other issue there.

this is just a small example, but it really does represent my relationship with her on a grander scale.

she's looking out for her. and i've been looking out for more than just myself.

she was checking me out today. it was hot today. i wore a hot pink tank top and dark jeans, but when it got unbearably hot, i shucked the jeans and put on some short shorts. i wore them to spite her. and they worked. she checked me out, her eyes darting over every exposed and unexposed patch of skin.

i said nothing. but i know she knows that i was aware of her eyes.

and it just makes me shake my head. she got her brains fucked out all night last night by cock. she's totally head over heels for the guy. but she still checks me out.

she can't have it all. i'm not going to give it to her. i'm not going to ever fuck her while she's with him, if ever again. i won't do any threesomes with her. she cannot have it all. she cannot keep doing this to me.

i need my shrink. i've been dying to talk about this to someone -- anyone. i almost can't handle not being to talk.

i'm going mad.

devastated and destroyed

my chest is heavy and hurting right now. the left side.

my heart won't stop its slow but joltingly hard pounding.

boom . . . boom . . . boom

my best friend. my most trusted confidante. my roommate. the girl i'm in love with.

she's seeing someone else.

a man.

someone i know.

someone from work.

and she likes him.

she really, really likes him.

i just found out last night. dimples had invited me to come and hang out with her. she had gotten off work early because she was owed time. so she had gone to have lunch with a male friend of hers, an ex-boyfriend, with whom i have begun to be friends with as well.

by the time i arrived at around 6:30, they were well on their way to having fun. but, dimples had assured me before i even arrived, she had not and was not going to get drunk until i got there.

when i came in the bar, i looked around for them. i spotted dimples first; she was standing at the bar, ordering some drinks. i came up behind her and put my arm around her to hug her, and said hi. when she realized it was me, she squealed excitedly and gave me such an enthusiastic squeeze back. it made me laugh out loud. we were just so glad to see her.

i was in a good mood. i'd had a tough week and a tough day and was just so glad to be there with her and to have the chance to drink my stress away.

she ordered some drinks for me, and i helped her carry them back to the table, which was already covered with an empty pitcher and empty glasses. we sat down and started talking about work, our day, etc. since it was a casual work-day, i was wearing low-cut but casual shirts: a long-sleeved navy henley cotton-knit hoodie and a green vee-neck tee over it, both of which cutting low enough to give a glimpse of cleavage. i saw dimples' eyes dart down my shirt straight away, and it made me feel warm; it'd been a while since she had openly checked me out like that. and it didn't take too long before she was telling me:

"there's something i wanna tell you. i've been wanting to tell you. but i'm afraid you're going to judge me."

she kept saying that over and over. i wanted to know what she was going to say. i felt that her words would be important, monumental. i wanted to know.

but she didn't say for a while. it was like she couldn't. all she kept saying was that she didn't want me to judge her or think differently about her.

that whole time, it was just me and her at the table. her friend and his friend were off playing pool. but then they came back and interrupted. i was annoyed; i wanted to know.

they left, and she and i just began talking again. but not about it. and i don't remember how long it took, but she finally said it, loud and clear enough for me to hear her over the joint's loud murmur of voices:

"i've been fucking _____."

the world came to a halt inside me. i heard yet wasn't sure i really heard. "say again?" i said.

and she said it again.

i was stunned. it was him. she was fucking him. she was fucking him. she was fucking him. she was fucking him.

i could not say a word. but i didn't have to. her friends came back to the table, and something in me went into automatic mode. i pretended that i had not heard the most devastating news ever. i started joking, faking laughs, gazing too intently in the other friend's eyes. i was angry, crushed, numb, feeling like my mind was hurtling a million miles ahead and that everyone around me had slowed down to the point where i could see and know what they were going to say and do before they even did it.

i know dimples knew the impact that her news had on me. but she played it off, too. or tried to. i could feel her eyes dart to me when she thought i wasn't looking, to check out my mood and emotions. and even when she wasn't looking at me, i knew she was still watching me. i got drunk fast that evening. drunk enough that my actions and impulses slowed down, but my mind was never dulled.

i ignored her a lot. and i know she realized it. nonetheless, there was some in-between time when she and i were left alone at the table while the other two guys went up to shoot some pool. and during those times, we did not talk about the secret she divulged. just other stuff. for instance, there was some talk about having a threesome -- me, her, and her friend/ex, with whom i had become friends with, too. "he likes you," she said. she knows that i like him, too, and that i think he is attractive; she's told me she relayed that information to him.

"what do you think?" i asked her. "do you really want to do it?"

"if it's with you, yes," she said simply.

throughout the rest of the evening, i could tell that her ex was serious about it. i saw how he stared at me as if he wanted me. and it got to the point where we were finally at the house i had agreed to share with dimples as a roommate, and i could see him for what he was -- carefully trying to manipulate the situation to the point where we would all three end up in bed together.

but the shock of dimples' news, which i had forcefully tried to ignore, would not disappear, and i was in a bad mood myself. although i said nothing, i know dimples could feel my mood, and she did what she could to not meet my gaze. and she was aided in her endeavor just by the fact of how drunk she had gotten by night's end; she just kept closing her eyes, looking like she was on the verge of passing out.

i took out my annoyance on her ex. but it wasn't that hard to do. he was pissing me off.

for some reason, the issue of my income and debt was brought up and discussed. apparently dimples has told him a lot about me. even right now, i can still see his eyes intent on mine as we stared, hard eyeball to hard eyeball at each other in the dimly lit living room. and it makes me mad at his presumption.

i have a regular salary -- one for which i am grateful for, especially after having sacrificed a lot of my income-earning capacity for the sake of studying for stupid bar exams. i make more money than dimples. i started at a higher wage bracket than she because i have a college degree; she doesn't.

this is actually an issue that has come up before between me and her. in her eyes, she's a have-not, and i'm a have. the way she talks about it sometimes is that it's not fair that there is a discrepancy between me and her. it's not fair that i was "allowed" to go to college, go to law school, etc., and have so much education while she didn't. these discussions are always bad because she is quite passionate in her opinion that i don't really know what it's like to suffer and to work hard for peanuts, and it puts me on the defensive and makes me upset. her life is hard, but mine, although different and although i do have more schooling, etc., wasn't a walk in the park, either. and it is just a mutual, silent consensus to generally not talk about that topic anymore, although she will bring it up every now and then when she thinks i am being too "elitist."

anyhow, her ex. basically, his position is that i make a lot of money. i should be having fun with the money.

"what money?" i said. "my paycheck is basically gone within the first two weeks of each month because of rent, expenses, bills, student loans, and other necessaries."

his advice? "why are you even continuing to pay your bills? just go have fun with your money."

so we talked passionately about that. for the record, i prefer to be in good credit standing and not just completely renege on my bills. and then he also insinuated that, with my money, i should -- as in, i have an obligation -- to be using my money to pay for him and dimples to have fun, too.

i am pissed. livid. what the fuck!

i am the sort of friend who pays for everyone's fucking lunch, dinner, and drinks. even when i was fucking poor, i would throw everything on a credit card and still pay. ever since i became dimples' roommate, i have paid for a lot of shit that i don't ask for reimbursement on. i give her my share of the rent, and i trust her word when she tells me what my sum contribution for the month's utilities is and just give her the money. i buy all the groceries, i pay for lunch, dinner, and drinks when we go hang out, i buy shit for her kid, i do all sorts of crazy assed shit with my money because that's just what i do. i don't need to be told to help pay for my friends to have fun.

and this ex boyfriend of hers, he has been a recipient of that as well. i have gone and hung out with him and her several times now, and each time, i have payed for his brunch, his drinks, his food, and his good times. i know i make more money than either of them, and he has always taken my generosity with feigned modesty, but i have always detected a note of pleasure in him that he did not have to pay. so i don't need to be told. that's what i do.

but even if i didn't, i don't need to be lectured on what to do with the money i earn.

this ain't your money, son. you want some money, stop fucking drinking all the time and get a real fucking job. you don't tell me what to do with my money, so fuck you and go to hell.

so he's on my shit list.

and fuck no, you ain't gettin' no threesome out of me.

they eventually left the house together, good riddance, and then i drunkenly went into the shower, then went to bed.

even as drunk as i was, dimples' news still gripped me. i couldn't take it. i can't take it.

she's fucking him. she's fucking him.

their faces kept wafting before me as i tossed and turned in bed. i was exhausted, drunk, and need sleep -- but just couldn't get there. no wonder . . . . whereas before, she had always talked and joked about him as part of our usual chatter about the people we work with, she had stopped talking about him recently. the last time she and i fucked was in july, and she had not wanted to fuck me since, although i saw a few lapses here and there where it did seem she wanted me.

i saw his face in my mind. how dare you, i said in my mind. how fucking dare you -- that's my girl. i imagined them kissing, fucking. i wondered if he was good and how much she enjoyed it.

i could feel my body recoiling. i was hurt and stunned, and for the first time, i was also completely turned off from her. i would never fuck her now, even as much as i still love her. his fucking cock has been in her, pounding her. she's been invaded. she's let someone intrude into her body. she's spread her legs for him, and she has enjoyed every fucking minute.

even now, i have to swallow all my emotions down. they're a hard lump in my throat.

i don't know what i was thinking. i agreed to be her roommate months ago because i saw it as a way for me to be able to spend more time with her. and it's been great because i have been able to spend more time with her and get closer to her and love her even more. but i know i also did so and that i have been spending so much fucking money on her and her kid and her day-to-day needs as if that could ever be a way for her to fall completely in love with me. . . .

this is a fucked up situation. i know i've done it to myself. i know the right thing to do would be to get some space. leave the roommate situation. stop thinking about her.

but at the same time, she is my best friend, and we have grown to be so close to each other. i don't want to lose that, either.

she and i spoke quietly to each other throughout the day today. finally, in the evening, we talked. we talked about it all.

she said she'd wanted to tell me about it, right from the start. but she didn't because she didn't want to upset me and also because he had asked her not to say anything. she agreed to the secrecy because it could have a lot of repercussions at work, but she said she agonized over the fact that she could not tell me.

they've been seeing each other for two months. he treats her well. she likes him and appreciates his gestures. they didn't start fucking right away. he'd been asking her out for a long time before she finally agreed, and they went on a few dates before they finally started fucking. she's been seeing him at least once a week for the past two months, and they spend at least 5 or 6 hours together. she really likes him and wants to keep on seeing him.

that really is more of an effort on her part than what she did for me. might be because her kid is a year older and because she can count on a dependable roommate and other family members to help out. might be because she likes him more than she liked me. . . .

i know she loves me. i love her, too. but my love for her is a little deeper than her love for me.

actually, i don't get how she sees me. as we talked today, she said a few times that she was not sure it would work out with him. i feel like she said it more for my sake rather than for the sake of truth, but whatever.

"so what about your ex? the threesome? were you serious about that?"

she started to answer, then started laughing. "were you serious?"

i laughed, too, and said, "i asked you first!"

she softly stopped laughing and said seriously, "i think it would be fun." she paused. "it's not that i have stopped thinking about fucking you. i still think about fucking you, as much as ever. but . . .girls are different. they have a lot of emotions involved." and i know she was talking about me and that she was right. and that she knew and has known exactly how i feel.

"i'm jealous," i told her. my voice was cracking, so i tried to smile. "i'm jealous of him."

she seemed to look pissed. "are we ever going to get over that?" her voice was hard.

"i don't know," i answered honestly. "but that's just something for me to get over. you know i'm happy for you. i'm glad you've found someone who treats you so well and who you really like."

we got into a kind of argument about that. "why you gotta put that on me?" she said, angrily. "i don't want to be held back by that."

"how is that even holding you back?" i countered. "you do whatever the fuck you want. you obviously are already. whatever issues i've got, i'll deal on my own."

then we talked a lot more -- about him, about other things. at one point, i made a crack that she thought meant that i wanted to fuck her guy. her face instantly grew hard, and although she was smiling, she said, "i will fucking kill you."

i stopped, confused. "because i said ____??"

then her face loosened and she laughed again. "oh! i thought you said you would fuck him!"

i stared at her aghast. "never! i don't do peen!"

but that part of the conversation is something i've replayed over and over in my head tonight a lot as well. it's just really eye-opening for me. this whole time, i've taken it for granted that we would be friends forever, no matter what.

but the truth is -- apparently -- the opposite. there are limits, at least on her side, to our friendship. for that one second when she thought i had said that certain sentence and her voice had grown hard, i saw what that limit was. and i'm hurt that she would ever think i'd entertain that notion and hurt that she really would kill me or call off our friendship for any reason.

it's just making me re-think my friendship and relationship with her.

hurt. hurt, hurt, hurt.

a world of hurt going on inside me now.

i'm hurt she didn't tell me for two months. hurt that she misled/lied/hid important things going on in her life while i have continued to be nothing but open and honest. hurt that she can so freely move on and have fun and date and fuck other people while i have, obviously erroneously, changed my whole life and daily schedule and spending habits for her sake.

stupid. i am stupid.

she is with him tonight. i am sure she's staying the night. i want so bad for them to not work out. for them to break up. but i told her today that all i want for her is to be happy, and that if he can make her happy, then i would be fine with it. and that's true. i want for her to be happy.

but where does that leave me? i am so sick right now of looking out for other people's happiness. i am completely overwhelmed with sickness about it.

this is just a complete fucking mess. how can you really like a guy and be open to having a serious relationship with him, while still fucking jonesing to fuck your roommate, and also be entertaining the notion of having a threesome with an exboyfriend and your roommate?

fucked up.

so i am not at the house tonight. i am elsewhere. i may decide to stay away from the house the whole weekend, and to hell with her. i don't want to be there, thinking about her being with him and enjoying being fucked by him. i don't care about her bullshit. i am sick of giving up so much for her in return for so little.

i need a shrink. i need help.

good thing i got my appointment scheduled for this coming week. i can't bear this shit.

my chest hurts so much right now.