The story is complicated, and I’m not sure I even want to make it make sense for you (yes you, random clickhole casualty). I wasn’t even going to touch this name, I’ve spent years avoiding this name despite how incredibly common it is.
I know how my ex got to be the way he is, but I have never understood why he would choose to be that way to me. I thought we were supposed to be better than that to each other. His life was not good, I know. Neither was mine, and he knows that too. So why, rather than be each other’s safe haven, does he just derive such joy and false feelings of superiority because he thinks he knows where my sore points are and he’s finally found a foe he can truly defeat. So thoroughly exploitative, I would never in a million years do that to anyone, anyone who would ever be so good to me as to even say they love me, and try to make it look like they did. I would never do that to him.
I never asked him to help me move, I never asked him for help with anything. He volunteered, but for some reason I feel like it’s not sincere. Pity, maybe, my shoulders pinch together as I say that as I can tell that I’m afraid that that’s true. He thinks I’m crazy, and I am, and it’s time to go back to the only life I could find where that was worth tons and tons of money so that no one pities me anymore.
Why am I scared? Why do I let him do this to me? I have let myself be scared of him for so long, I suppose, after a nice long pause, after a few years of reflection, I can finally begin to admit that maybe he was abusive, and it wasn’t just me being awful, or even just us being awful to each other.
I just got up and walked around. I have so many feelings for that man, most of them are not good. I have the stereotypical “one hot tear” going down the left side of my face, mourning the loss of a male figure.
And that was literally all I wrote before I realized that I was down to my last sip of coffee, in the corner of my office (yay I have an actual office now), wondering if I should plug in my work phone or tablet into the dangling charge cord that I just picked my phone up from.
The uncertainty of my poor poor brother when he tries to talk to my dad, he knows that the love is earned rather than intrinsic, even though no one has ever admitted it, and I don’t know if anyone even consciously knows. My mother is the kind of woman that would let her doubt become a static behind the scream of the lies she tells herself over and over, and my father doesn’t have a mind big enough in that regard to imagine what his wife does while he’s away on business. But he knows my brother is not his, subconsciously, and has never loved him as such.
Then he kissed me, and I just love the texture of his tongue sliding against mine. It’s agressive, but not invasive, just like him. It was a great night, but I broke one of my Sylvie Montpaneusse or whatever g-string “confidence boosters” as I like to call them.
All the while, someone is screaming underneath, and I’m just thinking. Wow, it’s weird how the heat builds in waves to the point where we don’t notice it, like the tide coming in. But there is a radical difference between the starting and stopping points. I wonder how this approach can be applied to change, generally, and how it has been applied to change, generally, and in my life specifically?
I am so mean to people when I try to protect myself. Like a fucking cornered animal. He is going to leave me, so I have to leave him. I can say whatever I want about it, and I will, I have, but that is the truth.
I remember chipping away at the stone to bury her. There is land where shovels do you no good, it’s just rock under there. And you have to find a place where the rock breaks, and then get a long steel rod and wedge it into the crack, and if you haven’t thrown your shoulder out by then you have to push with all your weight and thank god for every pound you have and hope that you have enough strength to wedge the rock open, and if you’re alone you have to push hard enough to slide the rock apart so the opening doesn’t crash closed when you put whatever it is that you were trying to bury inside.