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She kind of doesn't care anymore that every time she comes to this website some "warning, your info will be compromised as this certificate expired X days ago." She knows no one reads it and no one is stealing anything from her from this site. What on earth is there to steal? her misery? her doubts? her bullshit hope?
Yesterday was five months with the man she now knows will be nothing but a passed stone memory. It was hard to wrap her head around it for a while, so she painted one in a fugue of sad frustrated despair. She rather liked the art but felt it photographed better than it really was - such a metaphor.
The cats were of course driving her nuts. It was cold, and she certainly didn't want to be there fucking mother. She wanted no responsibility and freedom to go off to somewhere else. It was the X-mas season - huzzah huzzah. So many people put so many symbols and meanings around something that is a Dionysius stolen or Osiris birth myth. It didn't matter to her - whatever gives you hope in the symbol of a birth that did not involve penetration from a male but produced a sainted male offspring.
Fucking males.
She was supposed to kill time until the one she chose might actually reach out again and tell her "hey" or something. She almost wanted to tell him to forget about Christmas and her protestation of "don't leave me alone with them". She had invited him to her sister's rich kid family Christmas that her brother didn't get a ticket to. It felt blisteringly exclusive as the little sister spit out bitter bile. She wishes she could just be in a coma for a while - maybe she would be.
Everyone else on the planet besides him annoyed her.
She had donned her red and white wearable blanket and her hat from the old grocery store that used to make her feel part of a community. Was it really two years ago or more that she last darkened the door of that establishment knowing it was the last but not saying.
Her entire eight year relationship with her second spouse was less feeling that she had towards this one. She had affection for asshat Andrew, but it had really all been his show and her lonliness. She had vowed to never act from unfeeling loneliness again, but maybe it didn't count if it was with a friend-zoned man instead of a lover. It was all she could do to force herself out of the house with another acting gig to perform: acting like she was not obsessed with someone who would never want her - acting like it was all OK - that she was going to be fine and that it didn't matter she was just having some finite fun.
He used to call her so much more, but she had to remind herself it's only been a week of waning attention - and it perhaps had started when she drunk/stoned demanded of him "DO YOU FUCKING LIKE ME?!!!!!!!!!!"
She recalls so vividly the time she should have ended it with spouse dos. She was in the passenger seat of his car and he was spouting off about all the shit he learned since his own divorce and the "main thing. the main thing that matters is I never want to be with anyone that isn't 'FUCK YEAH!' with me - and I never want to be with anyone I'm not 'FUCK YEAH!' about". she chalked it up to the plethora of lies she was in to make this relationship seem the image of what she wanted it to be: narcissi finally back with some stable guy who was upstanding and the father of three and a fookin architect in san Francisco and an MIT grad to boot.
What a fucking fool.
Now she was the recipient of the same question that she would never again ask "are you 'fuck yeah' about me?" she didn't ask it because she of course knew the answer.
Instead, she looked at the rainbow crystal she bought on their first trip to Florida. Today, there was no sun to turn it on, but it was still beautiful.
Rain would be here soon, and narcissi was glad the drops would blur the image.
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