Wednesday, July 24, 2002

Meeting with the "X" for dinner tonight. Not sure why I'm doing this to myself - lately as he works himself through the anger stage he shows little more for me then contempt. It's a funny feeling to be hated by someone who once thought the world began and ended with you - now he can barely speak to me as if I was another human. At times I find myself just tired - mentally and physically exhausted of trying to be understanding, trying to appreciate why he feels this way and needs to be so cold to me. I guess I just wonder why I don't just start going this direction myself - feeding off of all the shitty things he said and did that motivate me to finally say goodbye. I'm trying to be bigger then this - I'm not perfect - far from it - at the end of the relationship I began to chill towards him as well, I shuddered everytime he went to touch me, I dreaded time alone with him, I fought the urges to bite off his head every time he commented on another man.

Embarassingly I have purchased 8 shirts to choose from - hoping to be handsome, but not look like I'm trying. I bought a new pair of Steve Maddens hoping to look cool, trendy, but not like I'm trying. I'll leave work early to have a nice haircut - high and tight - to look clean and younger, but not like I'm trying. My nerves so raw my face keeps breaking out, I'll try to clear or conceal, but not look like I'm trying. It seems so sad, so embarassing how hard I am ... not trying.

I keep sketching out plans for the "Heartbreak Time Machine" - this savior vessel that will teleport me to a future where our hearts have both mended, we've blocked out the arguments and sadness that began to bleed into everyday of our existance. But I can't seem to find all the parts that make the machine work - I can make it fly on paper - I can envision it taking away the pain and whisking it all away to a place that's better...but beyond that all I have to show for the labor is pieces of paper ripped, torn and crumpled - vagrants hanging desolately around a garbage can.

So here I go again stepping into traffic on a busy highway, hoping I'll side-step the semi's, jostle my way around the winnebagos and jump over the convertibles. Know that at some time tonight I'll be in tears, shoulders shaking, head in my hands and I'll be wondering when the time machine will come pick me up - maybe think a good thought for me - wish me through this - even, sketch your own time machine...and pass your thoughtful hand - ever so gently across my cheek to catch the tears before they drop to the ground.