December 24th and we’re through again.
This time for good I know because I didn’t
throw you out — and anyway we waved.
No shoes. No angry doors.
We folded clothes and went
our separate ways.
You left behind that flannel shirt
of yours I liked but remembered to take
your toothbrush. Where are you tonight?
Richard, it’s Christmas Eve again
and old ghosts come back home.
I’m sitting by the Christmas tree
wondering where did we go wrong.
Okay, we didn’t work, and all
memories to tell you the truth aren’t good.
But sometimes there were good times.
Love was good. I loved your crooked sleep
beside me and never dreamed afraid.
There should be stars for great wars
like ours. There ought to be awards
and plenty of champagne for the survivors.
After all the years of degradations,
the several holidays of failure,
there should be something
to commemorate the pain.
Someday we’ll forget that great Brazil disaster.
Till then, Richard, I wish you well.
I wish you love affairs and plenty of hot water,
and women kinder than I treated you.
I forget the reason, but I loved you once,
Maybe in this season, drunk
and sentimental, I’m willing to admit
a part of me, crazed and kamikaze,
ripe for anarchy, loves still.
It’s almost June. I got taken aback when I came to visit my blog; I didn’t even recognize the blue sidebar or recall when I changed it. I had to reset my password because I couldn’t recall it. Basically, it’s been a while.
Not that this is unusual, and typical rather: I’m not feeling very good these days. The stress of having to get so many things done in a finite amount of time has caused me to do poorly in almost everything.
I’m also probably in the midst of a breakup. I don’t think D and I can continue going the way we are; things have rarely worked out for us and not much has changed over the course of a year and a half regardless of the number of times both of us have said we’d make an effort. I don’t think effort can make two people compatible.
My health has also suddenly gotten worse. Age has arrived. The timing for failing health is never great, but the timing just isn’t great.
I came on here presumably to get really down and specific on everything, but I’m going to have to get to know my blog again (if I even consider writing in here again soon due to time constraints).
Btw, listening to music through headphones hurts my ears, even at a low level. Earphones are fine, but not headphones. The sound is too close to my ears. Maybe I just haven’t listened to music in a very long time either… it’s been all radio, NPR, KCRW, KPCC, podcasts. Just streamed through the speakers. Headphones feel so invasive.
I’m sifting through playlists on Spotify and all of these artists are unknown to me. I don’t recognize any of the songs or their names. I haven’t really listened to music for about two years.
Over the course of my relationship I’ve grown to hate life and people. Not necessarily as a direct cause of, just over the same period of time. Maybe related/maybe not.
I no longer “go out” and do things. My life is supremely boring. And it’s depressing. I always imagined a partner would be someone who could help me live, help me go outside, help build me up in exchange for those same things. But I’m not living. I’m miserable and stuck indoors with someone that doesn’t think we should go out and live, or someone that doesn’t want to live. I don’t know. But it’s hard to imagine that I managed to achieve the exact opposite of the thing I wanted most.
And so I think of all the things I want to do, have wanted to do, and have not done over these past few months… and how I’ll have to do them alone. But I suppose a picnic of 1 is better than no picnic at all. And I suppose going hiking alone is better than not hiking at all.
What astounds me is how my support system just disappeared the moment I got a partner. My friends continue to do things, go places, hang out. And the invitations stopped coming. Now I’m afraid to go out. By myself. Or with friends. It’s like having to rebuild yourself all over again.
After a doctor’s visit yesterday morning I decided to go to Long Beach. I miss Long Beach a lot. And rarely go. D thinks it’s “too far.” But I went. Headed to the movie theater. Just like I used to do. And it was entertaining. But as per usual, I wanted to do something with D, not alone. I called him, in a jovial mood, and asked if he would like to do something with me. I gave him options, alternatives. And the answer was a resounding, “No.” He said I expect him to say yes or do all the things I want to do… but we never do anything. I started crying after hanging up on him. I pretended to look at my phone, scrolling mindlessly, until I could get the tears to stop. Then I got in my car, drove home, and slept.
At some point yesterday, I told D it wasn’t working out. This relationship doesn’t make me feel good. He got angry (as per usual) and eventually he punched a painting on the wall he made me in 2014 (one of the few gifts he’s given me), and grabbed it from the wall and split it apart. The wood split everywhere, creating bloody splinters on his arm and hands.
It’s not the first time he’s thrown, broken, or torn something. There’s been coffee cup on the wall, pulling my clothes from the closet in which one of my most prized dresses was torn, the hole on the bedroom wall, and recently, throwing a bucket of water on me (twice) when I was too depressed to move from my cradled position on the floor.
But maybe it’s me. I have a bad habit of bringing out the worst in people.
My little lovely blog has gone neglected for some time now and I readily admit I have missed writing quite dearly. Sadly/luckily I have been quite busy with school for the last two months and recently I acquired not one, but two new jobs — a full time and a part time position on top of school. My body and mind have been on overdrive and I wish I could say that I were at the very least not so poor for working so hard but alas, I am broke and still working my ass off.
Currently I am working for one of my favorite retailers in the hopes of joining their corporate headquarters when I graduate in June. Baby stepping my way into my future career. Anyway, I’m tacking on an A.A. to my Bachelor’s in the hopes of getting in good at a buying office. I can’t wait to resume my office lifestyle because it pays more money and it uses my good lil’ brain.
But in the mean time I am working on loads of projects and assignments. I’m nearly done with my first quarter at FIDM and I just have two more stretches to go before I finish. Then it’s career path and MBA some time after (2017?).
Anyway, I’m taking the night off from work or study (though I have so much to do), just to browse the internet and see what is happening on the fashion blogosphere.
We are mortals, you and I. There is only my dying and your dying and nothing beyond. You will die and there is nothing beyond. I shall slowly disappear until my heart stops its soft padding against the lining of my chest. Until then, the drive to speak continues, incessantly. Until then, we carry on. After that, there is nothing.