Who Am I

What in the Hell is wrong with me?

Why would an adult person of average intelligence knowingly and willingly put herself in a situation that can only end in intense pain and heartbreak? What kind of person does that? A psychopath? A sadist? No. An intensely lonely person, desperate for someone to love them as much as they love the people in their lives.

I have spent every night of this weekend at B’s house. I have listened to her, I have held her while she cries, and I have genuinely tried to be a friend to her and not tell her how much it hurts. It should make me happy, even B said that herself. She loves someone who doesn’t love her back. M doesn’t love her, she never did really. She was using her for something, I don’t know what, but that’s really not important. Sound familiar? The way she is feeling right now is horrible. It hurts, and it’s numb at the same time. I know, all too well. I have been there, I am there.  However, I absolutely can not know that someone I know is hurting and not do what I can to help.

What makes me sad, though is it is very clear to me that B is either completely oblivious to my feelings, or I now mean so little to her that she doesn’t care how I feel. I have spent a week listening to her tell me how much she loves this woman, how she would do anything to get her back. She has read me text messages begging M to give their relationship another chance, All of the things I have wanted her to say to me since the day she walked away, she has said to another woman and then told me.

I don’t blame her anymore for breaking up with me. I always knew it would happen. I have a long history of not being enough for the people I care about. I wasn’t successful enough for G, I wasn’t disciplined or structured enough for K, my ex husband once told me my best isn’t good enough. I’m not pretty enough for B. I can’t change that. God knows I spend damn near an hour every morning and tons of money every month on makeup to cover up the ugly as best I can. I’m not very good at it yet, but I’m learning. I still hear her words, loud and clear every day. I don’t know if they will ever go away. I don’t know if I deserve them to.

B’s immediate problem of money and bills will be resolved by the middle of this month one way or another. I am really hoping I hear from her after that, but I really don’t know. I don’t know who I am to her anymore. I don’t know how long she will want me around this time, but I know only too well how easily I can be replaced.

Waiting

So I saw B this week. I knew it would happen eventually. It was only a matter of time. Whatever the connection that we have is, is not gone yet. I haven’t decided if that’s good or bad. For better or worse, my entire being comes alive when I am around her in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s intoxicating, and addictive and like most intoxicating and addictive things, very dangerous.

We have been talking for a few weeks, mostly in text, a few short phone calls here and there. Apparently the woman she left me for, M, isn’t as perfect as B thought and she is pretty much miserable. Yes, part of me wants to laugh and thank karma for allowing me to watch, but honestly, I can’t know that she is sad and having a hard time and not try to help. Ill advised? absolutely. Stupid? Probably. I tell myself that I am doing it because I want to be a good person, and it’s the right thing to do and that is all absolutely true. Another reason is because I want to help her. I want to see her smile and know that I helped put that smile on her face. She has an amazing smile.

So I went over on Tuesday and was able to see her dogs, who I love and miss more than I could tell you. Apparently there is an issue with M and the dogs, and it breaks my heart. She has really amazing dogs. They should be happy in their home, but then again, so should B and I really don’t think she is. It doesn’t even look like a place B would or could be comfortable anymore. It’s frilly and girly, and pink. Good God, so much pink. Her apartment before was eclectic, her art was openly displayed, it was homey and comfortable and her. I don’t know what this is, but I don’t really know who she is anymore anyway, so I guess it makes sense somehow.

We went to lunch and drank too much, and listened to old music and for a minute, it was like old times, like tons of other nights in her apartment with old music and drinks. A song we both love came on and she asked me to dance, and I lost it. We stood there, dancing in this place that I don’t belong anymore, crying together. It was heartbreaking. I kept wondering what the hell I did to get here, but I know it’s not my fault. I was, and I am, good to her. I don’t know if she would admit that, but that is unedited honesty.

I saw her again today and clearly walls have been installed since Tuesday. I took her to lunch, but she didn’t want to drink, seemed to not even want to be around me. Right before I left she told me to stop my drama. MY drama. I have spent my vacation trying to help her out of the fucktastic mess that is her life, but I have drama? Whatever.

I left in tears, and went to have a drink alone, trying to figure out how a person of reasonable intelligence can allow myself to be trampled on repeatedly. Not just by B, by everyone in my life. I really do try to be a good person. I care about people. A lot. I don’t know why I am never good enough.

I don’t know if I will see B again. I will if she wants to of course. When I was leaving on Tuesday, she promised me she will fix this, and that meant so much to me, until she read me a text she sent M today, in which she said the exact same thing. I wish I knew what she really feels, what she really thinks. For now, all I can do is wait.

On Seeing the Person you Love, Love Someone Else

When she tells you about her for the first time, she will be drunk.

Don’t react.

Keep a smile in your voice and on your face.

Use short, concise sentences, like, “It’s all good”, or , “I wish you happiness.”

Don’t say much else.

Your voice will show you are running out of air.

The anvil she dropped on your chest just landed.

You haven’t gotten good at breathing around it yet.

Realize that she doesn’t love you. She never did.

Practice saying “it didn’t work out”

and “we broke up”

until you can say the words casually, without tears.

The first time someone asks you about her,

You will feel tears form.

Make sure to cough,

let the tears be explained away by allergies.

Make yourself as busy as possible.

Wake up at five am every day, so you can go to the gym before work.

After work, go to the gym again.

Volunteer for everything, say yes to every request.

Spend hours writing, late into the night.

You know how to do this.

You’ve gotten good at being used and discarded.

You need to fill every second of every day with as much activity as possible.

The goal here is exhaustion.

The long, endless nights in a dark, quiet house are the worst.

Avoid these at all costs.

That’s when the tapes in your mind, the ones you have had since childhood, will play.

On repeat.

They will bring your deepest, darkest insecurities to you.

They will belittle you.

Demean you.

They will try to make you believe you are worthless.

When you realize they are now playing in her voice,

it will crush you.

Begin a new practice of having a drink before bed.

Just one.

Drown her voice with bourbon.

The goal here is oblivion.

The first time you see a picture of them on Facebook,

you will be physically ill.

As you wretch over the toilet bowl, your stomach will turn itself inside out.

You will realize then that in the past week you have eaten exactly

five grapes

and two saltine crackers.

That’s why you can’t get sick.

Your stomach is like the rest of you.

It can’t tell when there is nothing left.

Know through all of this, that this is not your fault.

You love someone who doesn’t love you back.

She doesn’t love you.

She never did.

She never will.

 

Ghost Story

You tell me you watch ghost stories alone in the dark

When I tell you I can’t do that, you tell me ghosts aren’t real.

I laugh, because I don’t know how to tell you how wrong you are.

My ghosts don’t roam empty corridors, or hide behind doors that no one dares to open.

My ghosts inhabit my body.

They roam the corridors of my mind,

and hide behind the door of my heart,

that no one dares to open.

Panic is a phantom that dwells in me, sometimes for months at a time.

Anxiety an angry specter leaving my extremities numb and shaking,

my heart racing,

and the people I love alienated.

Baby, to be with me is to inhabit the haunted mansion that no one will go near.

It can be a hopeless place,

with a thick black shroud of depression blocking out any hope of light.

But today,

when you held me in your arms, you made all the light come back.

You told me I am amazing,

and my hands shook,

and my heart raced,

not from panic, but anticipation,

and today,

for once,

the ghosts were silent.