|
She had to write it out as there was no other way she could think of for this could to dispel. She felt ninety years old in her body and wanting so much for things to be like they were. It had been excellent in hind site, but she had wanted more of course. She had wanted to revel with him - to go there - to talk.
She got off the phone with her mom - too embarrassed to say "oh, I fucked it up by being drunk, high, and crazy. what did anyone expect." followed by a weak and unenthusiastic "his loss".
She had library books to return, but was too lazy. Her one hope was that he had thumbsed-upped her fifth text. It was the dumbest hope, but it was her hope. The bees were finding the flowers, and the crystal she bought in clearwater was doing some prisms on the walls. She felt like such fool. If only she could have been light and cool. cool and light. the cool girl. Instead, she was ... well, no need to repeat that.
Her mom had called to ask what it was like taking him to her sanctuary. It felt so embarrassing to say anything real, so she just talked about everything except the last night. There's a mild possibility he loved her still. She was going to try really hard not to drown and burn her sorrows. It was OK to sleep too much. Who cared, and it got dark so much earlier. In retrospect, maybe she should have not even talked to him last night - could have tabled it - but she was also hoping he'd make a plan to come see her. Instead, he was going to see his son. That was proper. she had zero problemo with it. It was just the natural thing that it always was: she didn't want to just read the non-verbal signs. She wanted some fucking words.
She wasn't going to get them.
She was going to get penalty box silence. She was either expelled from the game or in the penalty box, and she'd find out which one by her birthday. She was sure he was scouring the lands looking for someone new. Maybe he always had been. She couldn't understand why she had been so psychotic and convinced that he didn't like her. Where did that come from? He had given so very many non-verbal signs: showing up every fucking weekend after driving two hours; giving her gifts every weekend; remembering things she said...
Oh well. It wasn't going to do except to chin up and get through the days. Luckily, she was very very experienced in getting through the days. She had been doing it for years.
Another way she could try to do it is to destroy it - to honor her "he doesn't like me" and think of it as true. She could not find any evidence of that in her most stringent of seeking besides that he wasn't like the other boys: he did not kiss her ass in any way - nor compliment her "your skin is soft" - and her skin was very soft. She worked hard at it. Well, not really - she just took baths and used olive oil.
Is it possible that he could forgive her? Is it possible that he would let her back into his life? She couldn't wait to just sloth without any pulls on her and sink into despair - something so familiar.
And thinking of it another way. Maybe they would never have made it long term any way - so best to just pull the plug now. She had thought she was going to marry him, but that made bile laughter in her throat.
On her walk, she tried to think of all the other people she had been intrigued with who she couldn't even remember their last names. Neil could just fall back into that category - after she bled a kilo.
Her house was a mess by her standards - dust bunnies and too many dishes and used Kleenex on the coffee table. She cared about as much as you might think.
They had made a joke about what people called him "Narcissi's friend" and he called her a FILF - friend I like to fuck. Later, she said while getting into her catatonic state - she likely slurred it forcefully. It made her weep to remember the destruction.
"I don't want to be your friend. I like you too much. When we break up, I wouldn't want to be friend zoned. It would hurt."
He nodded.
What went on in his head. She wondered all the time if he ever thought of her. Perhaps he was already now divesting and discarding. Perhaps he'd already done it.
At least the thought of killing herself was being kept at bay. She was going to take the other half of the antidepressant right now.
None of it was his fault. He had excellent boundaries and communicated them well. It was all her undertaking to try and sabotage the boat. She sensed he was kind of sad to be disillusioned with her. Not texting him. Not calling him. Letting it fester - letting the jury take its time deliberating - god that was a hard hard pill.
She had swallowed hers. Hopefully, this year would not be a repeat of last year where she started writing suicide notes in January.
Narcissi loved this man. She loved him like no other because it's the one that's now. It was heartbreaking to prepare to have him dump her. She had been quasi-preparing since the first day. She recalled the 2am vic chestnut crying fit - thinking it would be over then. Perhaps it would have been best to just have never tried but what an empty fucking thought that was - may as well try.
And he had called her last night and she had thought the reckoning would come - he could own up to that statement "we need to talk about this but not now." Now was here, but it wasn't. How hard and awkward it had been to try and keep it all light. In fact, she was very unsuccessful because that fucking neon pink elephant in her head pounding her skull telling her she had ruined just everything - everything.
She wanted to go into that monster - to find out why she did what she did. He wanted to forget the monster ever existed if he could whereas Narcissi kept wondering what she did. It was very much like a 3-year-old girl screaming "why won't you say you like me!" and she remembers him responding "my life is great. my life is fine. I was just looking for some company."
Her life was tied up in him. He was her favorite thing about her life. It was different sitting in your living room knowing your steam pot is going to pressure-cooker explode. Another thing it was entirely for her to sit in the aftermath of the explosion.
"Will I ever see you again?"
|
