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"you know. I do like you, but I'm not sure about your taste in music. The songs you pick are not really ... good."
He killed her in that one blow - murdering her cool points. What the fuck did she care? it's not like she didn't half-way agree. It had been harder than it should be to make him an extended mixtape (but god had she tried). She used to mock girls who only got music from their boyfriends and you could see it in their cassette tape collection - from Van Halen to the newest Replacements. Now, of course she's eating all her words like a glutton. Now, of course, she's hardly a girl except when the mirror isn't around.
The window is now open. Birds sound like beautiful love. It's a September morn, and she dons a black cashmere sweater. She's dying cold inside because she knows her mistake was that she didn't really ever show herself adequately - she was always geisha. She was always the persona - the defense mechanism. It was different with Andrew, he fucking LOVED (well, let's use that emphatic word loosely) the persona - the geisha. He married it.
This one would only take it so long (and that was why she really loved him). Eventually she would have had to show herself: a kintsugi mash-up who was big on carrying all the weight. And what lesson would she learn from this? next time....
She was tremendously tired of next times (yet, that could be a trap as she knew from #2). This gambit had been a flash of something pretty real. It was not perfection, and it wasn't over - but she swam in the sewage of her screaming negative parts: ugly and old and stupid and worthless and broken and liar. What kind words could she say to herself "god, you're strong". Could she ever just pick up the phone and say "hey, just wanted to hear your voice. I was having a morning of thinking too much." Would she ever think that she wasn't just useful as something to fuck.
At least she had taken a thorough shit this morning. Vacation had knocked her off her punctual digestion. The orange cat mewed, and she was so tired of it all. She had made a list of the things she needed to do. It was a start at pulling herself away from the doom loop.
He had broken her, but not enough to show the cracks with the light getting in. It was more she felt like protecting herself - shoring up the fissures. It mattered to her.
She was already getting pre-depressed for him - knowing that in spite of all her arms-lengthing - this one could break her. He had tricked her by wanting to meet her aunt. She had thought it meant he was scooching towards a relationship - wheeee. In reality, he was likely so bored with his routine and so excited to finally get some fucking nookie.
She used these things to slap her own face so she could prevent him hurting her - so she could get some of the blows over with before it really happened. When he finally says something like "you're a great person. I'm just tired of driving... oh and it's not really about that so you can't solve it by being the person that drives to me."
Time moved so quickly and so slow. Today was their two month anniversary. She recalls the night she came home from meeting him for the first time and rocked on the couch at 2AM listening to vic chestnut caring so much it made the walls bleed.
A glimmer tried to reach her. He always had pulled her out of the despair pit the thousands of times she had already tried to death march into the abyss. Maybe she would try and just love herself - hahahahahahahahaha what a thing. (Who was she?)
What would it take to love herself? like for the eternity that she cycles back into this shit? She has the routine memorized thoroughly. She would have to forgive herself. In order to do that, she would have to accept her flaws. She grabbed one of his balls and played with it to comfort her while looking at the pressed daisy that had so freaked him out. Instead of her saying "fucking grow up it was kindly intentioned" she immediately stammered apologies and thought of how stupid it was of her to try to preserve that moment: transporting dead flowers via a work relationship to commemorate a fallen mother. A gift.
And her own mother was visiting yet again - what a thing to be in Georgia eh - such an uptick? and it was going to be Mum's birthday - yet, all narcissi could think about was that it took one of the precious weekends away from... just being in his realm. All she needed to feel that blissful feeling of "there's nowhere on planet earth I'd rather be" was his breath.
"I noticed you left your cellphone behind that time we went out." She had done it for obvious reasons - there was no other person she wanted to intrude.
She had been herself - even the facade was a valid portion of her - yet she had not yet risked it.
"do you really think curiosity is essential in counseling."
She had been flummoxed that he even asked her that it was like asking if air was necessary to breathing, but it explained a lot. If she were honest, she only has that one statement that he made something like "I thought about why you might think that and figured it was because you have a writer's brain maybe and are always looking for the story."
Whatever that meant. She was on edge and always took things as insult to help with the trauma. She moved the Florida souvenir crystal trinket into the dark room that only got sunlight for 20 mins a day.
The orange schoolbus with the bluebird on the side passed by. It always reminded her of the subliminal message she had - that when she was so bored in her married home (the OM - original marriage) she recreated the blue bird on her wall. She only realized it was from this childhood when she saw the bus pass.
Oh life. She wanted to dance with him and feel comfortable that life had given her a gift. Instead, she was yielding to her basest demons. She was listening to the voices - watching for signs and portents. She was preparing to think of it as a painful memory where sweetness would follow. She didn't even think of the others maybe it would eventually be like that with him. He had gotten to her, but not all the way. She had barely scratched the surface of being amazing maybe... sigh sigh.
"let's do this again soon."
She had dejectedly answered: "that's the spirit."
The cicadas seemed gone. Now the birds just sang. She was ignoring work, eating too much and drinking too much, and she'd soon be with her family and ...
Besides, there was really nothing else she could do besides wait for the sun to reach the dangling crystal. She adored the dancing rainbows like a child.
fucking love. Fuck it, she was going to have another coffee.
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