A little unorthodox start to my morning, although everything has been uttlerly soulless lately anyway.

I took a new job.

Unlike my other job, this is an actual job, one I can tell my parents and friends about.

They’ve changed the layout of WordPress since my last post, and I don’t really like it. I’m sure I’ll get used to it after a while. Why does every “improvement” make everything suck worse? <=== this applies to so much more than software.

I was speaking to the boy some time ago, it was probably this weekend, and we were talking about how things suck now (of course) and he stupidly mentioned that maybe we should all go back to a time that was good… like a fucking white boy. Although even white people would be loathe to go back to a time without antibiotics, internet, and indoor plumbing <=== actually wtf, they could go months without baths.

Yes, I know this only applies to a certain type of white. I imagine Russians lounging in their steaming hot springs, with lavish bath houses and all that beautiful tile.

I shouldn’t be writing here, there is so much to do. But I haven’t had a chance, with this new job, and all the doctor’s visits. All the fucking doctor’s visits <=== I should be calling the doctors right now.

I was on a Hinge date last night, for absolutely no reason. I didn’t really like the guy, despite us having a lot in common. I came home to find my bathroom flooded, and now someone is fixing it, but the entire place smells like mold and I’m wondering if I should move out. It’s a shame, I love this apartment. I was actually going to go and pick up a new piece of craigslist furniture for my kitchen… I think I should. It’s what I want to do. Maybe I should call this new guy and invite him to come along. Maybe we’ll finally hit it off. Maybe I should message another dude, one who I was discussing craigslist with.

I got a surprise day off today, my boss is sick. She got the vaccine, and walks around like an invincible God because of it. Totally not caring that she could still spread sickness to me or anyone else in the office, and totally not caring that there are worse things than covid. They still haven’t found out what cause me to go blind. I know it’s because my boyfriend held me too tight, as we fell asleep, and put his chin right on my face like he used to do, and for once I was too depressed and beaten down to make him move, again.

I wish I had asked him to move, I wish I had broken up with him last year, 5 years ago. All the booze and all the trips to Paris and Vegas and Jamaica are not worth this.

Ask yourself, what is it exactly that you’re turning a blind eye too?

My Father, awesome as he always is, talking me through the trauma of blindness as only he can. As a person who’s been through it.

My Mother complains about everything. My Father does not. My Father has been through many, many, terrible things. My ex and I were in a car accident. I grabbed my suitcase from the backseat and went to work. He claimed he was permanently disabled and never did anything but lie around and bitch about how much is back hurt while I couldn’t move my left arm or turn my head for years and still somehow at 23 managed to buy a house and carry a whole mortgage while doubling up on my expenses to treat him to as many of the good things that my clients gave to me as I could, so he wouldn’t be jealous of all the men who treated me so much better. I watched My Father do this for my Mother, and I just figured that this is what we do for people we love.

I remember the feeling in my heart when I heard my Mother (I keep having to go back and add the capitalization out of respect) complain about her new Mercedes. I remember my ex complaining about the Audi my Father had given him. My ex totaled the car in 6 days, I never even got to drive it.

Ask yourself, what is it exactly that you’re turning a blind eye to?

I have misspelled blind every single time. I am not ready to accept this.

I have started every paragraphs with I, and I am ok with that. I’m rusty here, and I see that. I am not blind. I like Radiohead, not Thom Yorke. I have split vision, and I want to learn to love this. I want to learn what all this is for.

Why did I get the day off today, what am I supposed to do with this? I don’t want to waste a good coincidence. Incidentally, the Hinge boy I met last night is from the same town as the boy, and the same town where I went to school. A town of 400 people. We had the same brand of tractor.

It occurs to me that the root of all of these coincidences is me. Maybe I should leave this place, rather than just keep being surprised that everyone here is from the same place I’m from. I think this is my clue that I’ve been here too long, and all of these people have too.

I think that this is the point of today, but I don’t want to finish.

I think I’m done here, but I don’t want to leave.

I’m beginning to understand how my ex feels, about everything. He overstays his welcome constantly, everywhere.

But there’s still coffee left. I remember when I smashed a coffee cup into his face. We had been together too long, if only we had broken up earlier when any of the other available exits had fortuitously presented themselves. The cheating, the accidents, more cheating, more accidents, the fire, the fights, the moment I realized that I didn’t love him and that there was no way that he could love me. The minute he complained about the Audi. The day I met him and tried to build a sand castle and he left at the end of the day at dusk with nothing done but a big hole on the beach filled with red seaweed.

That’s the last sip.

I still don’t want to go, but who the fuck cares what I want.

Ask yourself, what is it exactly that you’ve been turning a blind eye to?

I put in too, with two o’s every single time. Who the fuck cares what I want. Do I? Am I even allowed to?

I can’t remember which professor told me never to end in a quote, or if anyone ever did.

The last song playing is about an abortion. I think My ex and I were over when I had that abortion. I wish I had killed him rather than my babies.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Anna says:

    Going through paperwork last night, I found an old bank statement from my ex’s account.

    He never had any money. Like none. He had received a big settlement from a prior accident that he had been in, that we had been in, and he blew all that money, completely missing me with any of it. His bank account had less than a grand in it. I want to blame cocaine, but wtf. That’s just idiocy.

    All the times he screamed at me for not having enough money, the time he screamed for 3 days straight when I asked him to pay half of the bills, the cold response to my tears when I paid him for my parent’s cruelty, bringing me down to my last $10, he was just blatantly using me for money the entire time. He had none, and he never wanted to tell me what that he had blown his entire life savings.

    A weird, indescribable feeling, a pain, a constricted feeling of the panic I should have had.

    He never loved me at all. He was just using me for money the whole time. I know that now, I see that now.

    I see it clearly, and it hurts. Who would take a whole person’s life for that? What kind of monster?

    Fear – are there more people like that? How do I hide from them?

    I turned a blind eye to his finances.

    Can I get my eye back now?

  2. Anna says:

    I took the boy back to the beach, the statue on the beach, where I met my ex.

    There was in fact an empty sand pit down by the tide line, a discarded sand castle left by some other girl and some other boy who were going to no doubt ruin their lives over that moment, which had been in and of itself disappointing but would forever be a memory, an anchor.

    The boy tried to repair the fallen wall, knowing that tide was coming anyway.

    I knew it would not help. He didn’t listen to me.

    My ex never listened to me.

    They both build sand castles the same way.

    How do I save myself from wasting time on undeserving people, without just always being alone?

    How would I go about building a sand castle?

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