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