A Breakup Tale in So Many Parts
By Adrianne Frost
Part 6: 8 days, 21 hours, 8 minutes since you left me...
Today, on the train, I was bringing you a box of clothes at work, through a mutual friend who is your co-worker, and I was braiding the plastic on the big bag holding the box. I remembered how I used to do that as a kid, braid plastic like hair. It was a fond memory. It was a memory I would tell you at the end of the day, when we talked about our days later in the evening.
I just clipped on my magnetic sunglasses and cried, braiding plastic.
I don't have a lot of "friends". Most of my close friends live out of town. I'm not "social" like you are. Although, your rampant “socializing” is probably to hide the fact of who you really are… or who you don’t know who you are… The friends I had, I had with you. They were "our" friends. Social events were the ones that we were invited to... and, eventually, as I got sicker, ones you went to alone. I was too depressed or too scared to leave the house for a while.
Hmmm... let me ask that question again: Why did you leave me?
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....
I'm not normal and you knew that. You knew that from day one. But you said on that fateful night 8 days, 21 hours and 14 minutes ago, "I never wanted to get into a relationship (ten years ago)".
Ahhhh! If only I hadn't had my pendulum watch swinging back and forth, back and forth as I chanted, "Date me, date me"... we wouldn't be in this pickle, would we, pickle?
Mwa ha ha!
You'd be safe now.
I'd be safe now.
But you've always known about every problem, every addiction and recovery, medication, history, surgery, hospitalization; all the bad, all the good. It's your bad, jack rag.
Today I dropped off three sweaters, one leather jacket and a pair of boots to our mutual friend aho works with you downtown. I also put the "Parade of Happiness" birthday book you made just around this time last year for my birthday. It's the book that said how in love with me you were and how much you loved me. And I put a picture of me from out Commitment Ceremony from 2000.
Because I'm a vengeful bitch who is still in high school. You will throw them away. My therapist that is my "paranoid fantasy".
My big brother is flying in tommorrow to be here for me for the weekend. I love him and that's really sweet, but it means I have to clean. If he sees you, he will use his redneck, black belt, big brother-ness to kick the living shit out of your doughy ass. It will be quite the unfair fight. In theory, the thought of it makes me squeal with delight. In reality, the thought of it makes me squeal with delight.
But that's just where I am today.
I also cried when I was waiting for our friend to get your box. I kept thinking, Why did you give up? And I wrote you a note and stuck it in the box: Why did you give up? I will never give up hope. I never stopped loving you, etc.etc.etc. Jesus. I hate myself sometimes. I’m such a sapling.
My "paranoid fantasy" is that you took it to the bathroom, went into the stall and read it, then wiped your ass with it and laughed.
Today I have to dust and vacuum. I have minimally survived the last few days.
I have minimally eaten, groomed the cats, worked out, slept, cleaned... cared.
I have the energy of a jilted manatee.
I am the jilted manatee. Just letting the motorboats drive over me.
Chop, chop, chop.
"Yeah, just go ahead, I'm just a sea cow with no future. My man (atee) left me at 1:30am about 8 days, 21 hours and 17 mintues ago. Yeah, I was pretty shocked, too... no, no kelp, thanks, I'm not all that hungry..."