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13 November 2007

The house is quiet except for a few low lights, the hum of an unwatched tv, and some music playing off my desktop. I'm listening to Train right now, for no particular reason other than it's on "the list". "I'm about to come alive" is playing and it takes me back to a rough night about 4 years ago, to a relationship where all we did was fight and say mean things... and usually in the middle of the night. It was one of those times where I was always wrong and just couldn't get it right in his eyes, no matter how hard I tried. He would get angry and his eyes would flash and I would shut down, unable to speak. So I would go to my respected corner and put it all down on paper because on paper I could sort out my thoughts and words. I could make the jumble make sense. And I remember sitting at my desk one night... or morning.... somewhere around 4am, and I was desperate to let him know that I could change and that I could get it right, that I would. I remember listening to this and thinking yes! I could come alive. I can do it! And then it struck me that I was just fading away and no longer living and a lot changed in those few seconds. It's not easy to pick yourself up when you get beaten down. But I was right, I did change. I did come alive. Just not how I first thought. Time is a beautiful thing... it dulls the details of big mistakes but makes their lessons crystal clear.

My baby girl is stoned on infant tylenol tonight. She had her first batch of needles and I can honestly say that I think it was harder on me than it was her. Not that she wasn't pissed off and appealing to me with big blue eyes filled with tears. But I had to watch... watch her cry.... watch her want my arms.... watch her want me to make it stop. But like all things, it too came to an end and now she's sleeping and the world has returned to its proper axis.

It snowed last night and this morning I had an overwhelming urge to haul out my christmas boxes. But at Peter's look of disdain, I refrained. My time will arrive. But speaking of my Peter, I sent him out the door with a very astute fuck you and a refusal to look at him. He said something he shouldn't have, without thinking, and I can't say that I blame him for that, but it still pissed me off, so I guess I'm still blaming him. He made reference to my bum, which has yet to fully return to its pre-pregnancy shape. I am reminded of my uncle Andy and his infinate wisdom this summer, remarking to me during my 8th month of pregnancy on a hot and humid day: "You know, that baby's going to hurt a lot more coming out than it did going in". I think I told him to fuck off too. Anyhoo, the moral of the story is that the whole thing's pretty stupid and I was glad that I told him to drive safe and have a good evening while he was with his friends. And I meant it. But I'm still sleeping in the spare room tonight... there's just not enough room in our bed for the three of us.... Peter, me.... and my ass. F#!$er.

When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before.
Mae West

1 comment:

Smarts said...

I'm so glad you are back here in my territory!

Sometimes I think the whole relationship thing is just part of the Big Human Fuckup drama series. Some sick bastard made it up in the first place and now sits back and laughs.

Miss you.