Friday, January 05, 2007
That was the last thing Claire texted me.
This was followed by "try not to be so bitter," and "don't worry yourself into a tizzy."
This makes me too angry to speak. Of course I take the fact that I've been erased from your life PERSONALLY! I am a person! I'm not some bloody abstract concept! God DAMMIT! And I am NOT bitter. I'm hurt, and I wish I could hate you but I can't because I still want you and it's tearing me up inside. Worry? How can I worry when it's all over? There's nothing there to worry about, for fuck's sake. It's done! Finished! Fini! Bloody hell!
Fuck. Sorry. I needed to get that off my chest at some point. Rest assured I did not actually text that to her.
Perhaps I should tell you all what happened, sparing the personal details. Claire's last relationship was messed up. It ended badly, and she was crushed, heartbroken, angry, bitter, and really beaten down. And this is a girl who's apparently never been depressed in her life. Two months later, she met me. She knew on some level that she wasn't ready but somehow got swept away in the whole thing, until three months later when she started to freak out about being in a relationship again and sent me the whole break-up speech in text messages while I was on my way to work. It was cowardly, to say the least, and she refused to speak to me to actually clarify what the hell she meant for a full week. I take issue with that, obviously, but her reasons are legitimate. I just wish she would have had the sense of responsibility to not get involved when she knew deep-down that she wasn't ready. I had no idea she was so good at repressing her feelings, but I guess I really didn't know her that well, and that's what's so frustrating.
This feeling of waste, of loss, of missing her, is so palpable I can taste it. I feel it at the bottom of my stomach and it makes me shaky. It runs through me every time I see a girl with red hair, or look at her painting, or have another flashback of a moment with her that was so beautiful that it now makes me feel like I've been poisoned.
Anyway. I just spoke to her on the phone, for the first time in almost a month. Oddly enough I feel slightly better. I feel I told her what I needed to tell her, finally. I didn't sound as angry as I do above. She used the word 'intense,' to describe it, but then that's just me.
I ought to listen to the sage advice of The Postal Service. Am I the only one who thinks their lyrics are brilliant?
Don't you feed me lines about some idealistic future
Your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures...
(from Nothing Better)
I also love this bit from Recycled Air:
I watch the patchwork farms' slow fade into the ocean's arms
Calm down, release your cares
The stale taste of recycled air...
Amen to that.
I went out tonight to see my old friend Morgan perform all her bitter Elvis-influenced songs of lost love and good riddance in a little denim skirt and actual black cowboy boots. It also made me feel strangely better.
And on a totally superficial note, the fact that Kaki King (guitar genius extraordinaire) is actually a lesbian in addition to being insanely hot pretty much made my week. So terribly shallow. But I wish this girl-next-door lived right across the street. Oh so cute! Why couldn't I have fallen in love with her in high school?? Grr.
I know I need to just spend more time with friends, get involved, and allow myself to feel free. I am free, and young, and healthy, and goddamn it, my skinny jeans fit perfectly.
Broken heart be damned.