3 posts tagged “lost”
"I leave the stars to judge, my every move;
I'm not going to think of you or I'll get the blues."
Here's my typical week day:
6:30 - Get up, feed the dog; walk the dog
7:20 - Get ready for work
8:00 - Drive to work
8:30 - Get to work
12-ish - Lunch - usu. alone, at my desk; or alone, somewhere close by the bldg.
1-ish - Return to work
5:00 - Drive home
5:45 - Get home; take dog to the park
7:00 - Dinner
8 - 10:00 - Read or internet nonsense; sometimes TV or DVD -- but lately, cannot concentrate
10:30 -11 - Fall asleep
I find myself crying in the car a lot, or before bed, or when I'm taking a shower in the morning. I find myself wondering about him, how he is, and wondering why he doesn't seem to care that I feel so badly. Why he doesn't call. I try to focus on the fact that he doesn't love me. I tell myself over and over, so that it will sink in. I try not to think of the reasons why, but I can't help it. I recite to myself all the reasons I imagine he doesn't want me. I try to square someone who thinks you're "extraordinary" with not wanting to be with you. Someone who thinks of you as his best friend with not wanting you to meet anyone else in his life. I cry some more. I read, try to take my mind off it. Everything reminds me of him. I try not to want to call him or write to him. Instead, I settle for just not doing those things. ("If he cares about me, then he'll call me.") When I hear the phone ring, an electric surge of hope goes through me ('Maybe it's him!'), and then the cross-current jolt of disappointment (it's never him). The same near-instanteously opposed waves of hope and disappointment when I open my inbox, look through the post. I fall a little more into despair each time. How long before I fall all the way down, I wonder.
Everyday, he proves his point a little more. I don't understand not fighting for something you want or love. And then it shatters me, the realization: he doesn't want or love me. Not just in the way I do him -- but in any way at all. I cry some more.
I wonder why he ever thought he was my friend when he can just stand off to the side and watch me go under. And that I would do anything for him, but he ignores me and won't offer me the slightest bit of tenderness, knowing the way I am, the way I can get.
I wonder how many ways a heart can break over the same man. Each day, I find out another.
