terminal and unsettling

sick to my stomach again.

 

i take things like this pretty hard.

 

whereas i only thought things had changed between us yesterday and she didn't, today, the self-fulfilling prophecy has come true.  and things are now weird.  and changed.

 

it just makes me sick to my stomach.  it really does.

 

things are just superficial at this point: we see each other, we say hi.  that's it.  the usual banter is gone.

 

and i might even go so far as to say that she is taking pains to avoid me.

 

and that has never happened before.

 

at this point, i just feel resigned.

 

in the past, whenever we have these moments post-anger, post-emotions, post-trauma, she and i tend to write each other a lot of unsent e-mails.  we carefully and painstakingly craft letters addressed to the other, and i know a lot of emotions and thoughts go into them.  but they usually remain unsent.  for my part, i have done those countless times – putting all my thoughts into a letter that i try to word in an inoffensive yet caring manner.  and i would spend all day doing that.  but i would end up not sending them because the words would end up pulsating so strongly in my mind and heart that i would cave in and just call her, and we would just talk out loud about what we feel and what has been going on.  i only know that she goes through the same process because she has admitted to me as much as well.  like, yesterday, she admitted to me, out of the blue, that she had spent some time last week writing me a letter that she never sent.  it sounded like she had wanted to tell me off in that letter with things that, up to that point, i had done or said to aggravate her emotions.

 

i mean, i know.  i know, particularly and especially at this moment, that i am and have not been an angel up to this point.  i have not been a particularly good friend to her in a number of ways.  i mean, yes, i have in certain ways.  but not in other ways.

 

but today i have no words.  today, i have nothing in me with which to start crafting a letter to be sent or remain unsent to her.  it is all too much.  and again, i would be, as she has said i tend to do, making things all about me.

 

i am depressed.  clinically depressed.  very, very depressed.

 

i want to be at a point where i just don't care.  i don't want to care about her, about who she's with, about whether she is lying, about those valentine's day roses she got, about how she feels with me, about anything pertaining to her.

 

just when i think i have reached the lowest point and that things will make a turn for the better, i get knocked flat on my ass even harder and more painfully than before.

 

"move out – just move out."

 

why can't i?  why do i still want to remain?  why do i still let myself stay in this situation and get so beat down?

 

not cool. . . .

 

my stomach is so queasy.

 

i said so much yesterday that i shouldn't have.

 

honesty does come at a price.