I left an index card on his car ending things, but then I wondered if he would even see it. It was a windy day, what if it blew off his car? What if it blew off as he was driving on the freeway? Then, an equally awkward situation popped into my head – he told me he was taking his car to get something fixed, and what if the workers at the auto shop had to give him that note. Or maybe he’s simply glad its over and that I gave him an out. Of course I can’t exactly call him up and ask him.
He texts me the next day, causing a haze of confusion. “I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore. I don’t want anything serious right now,but I really like you.” In my experience, I don’t want anything serious means I don’t want anything serious with you; however, brother has different ideas. He (wrongly) interprets it as “I like you but I want to take it slow”, which is the same discussion he and his significant other had at the beginning of their relationship.
A strange amalgam of emotions came over me – I was relieved, I was angry, I was glad. I gave him an out, and he wouldn’t take it, which really annoys me. So I did the only thing I could think of – give him another out. I responded to his text after agonizing hours telling him I wasn’t sure what I wanted, and to call me when he got back from New York.
Today I ended my pseudo relationship with an index card left on his car. All it said was “I can’t do this anymore. I’m starting to like you too much. xx.” I kissed him hard because I knew it would be the last time and I felt my heart breaking during it.
He still loves her, and I can feel her presence when I’m with him. She is a spectre who haunts him. I can never compare to her and her ethereal red hair. I hate feeling inadequate, and that’s the only way I ever feel anymore.
As much as it hurts, it was the right thing to do. He’s starting to pull away from me slowly, as we go a few days without contact. I could feel the inevitable ending coming, so I ended it first to give myself the upper hand.
I’ve been listening to Lana Del Rey’s Dark Paradise and Summertime Sadness on an endless loop.
Last night I drew the Death card. Even though this Tarot card doesn’t (usually) mean a physical death, it’s still a foreboding card. It usually means the end of a cycle or the end of a relationship or some sort of psychological transformation. Supposedly I’ll be receiving a new sense of self-awareness, which I am greatly lacking. Maybe this will be the end of the painful torrent of depression. Maybe the sun will shine again for me and everything will be alright finally. More likely though, especially with my luck, things will go from bad to worse, and I’ll finally succumb to the darkness. My karma has been terrible lately – I think I did something horrid in a previous life.
Five years ago I met a boy at a party. He was gorgeous and unavailable. That was when I was a horrible person, so of course I threw myself at him. Nothing happened, even though we both wanted something to happen. Disappearing is what I’m good at, so that’s what I did. I thought I would never see him again.
Cosmic forces have brought us together again, and it is every bit as wonderful as I wished. I’m a devout keeper of secrets, but he is honest with me, so I find myself being unusually honest with him about everything.
For the first time in over a year, I’m inexplicably happy. I smile more, and things all seem like they’re all going to work out in the end.
When this is over, I’m going to be even more distraught than usual.
The most radical thing my mother ever did was paint her living room red. In her youth, she self described herself as boring. She went out to parties with her brother and smoked the occasional joint, but rarely did anything wilder than that. Instead of going away to college, she chose to attend the local college twenty minutes away. Her parents offered to rent an apartment for her; she chose to live at home until she was married at 23. An opportunity came about for her to move to Portland, Oregon in the early 90’s. She chose to stay in Middle Tennessee, where she had lived since she was ten years old. She told me once that it wasn’t that she was afraid, she was merely content with her mediocre life. I pitied her for settling for a life that was so beneath her.
I vowed that I would never be boring like her. I vowed to be interesting and to travel and to have new experiences, which I did. Now, I feel like I am becoming dull, but it’s not because I’m content with my life. It’s because I’m afraid.
Last year there was a boy named Mark, and I could have fallen in love with him if not for his crazy on and off girlfriend situation. We had so much in common it was uncanny; unfortunately I became cold and aloof, which is what I do if I actually like someone. He is a serial dater and I am a commitment phobe. We fell out of touch after college, and even though we live relatively close, I’ve never seen him anywhere. All contact sadly ceased after college.
Recently I found his online dating profile, and we are an 86% match. It confirmed what I had known all along – that we were perfect for each other. Despite this newfound knowledge, I can’t bring myself to contact him. In a few months he will be leaving to start grad school, and once again I’ll be left heartbroken, regardless of what happens.
A few nights ago I had a dream that he changed his dating profile to tell all girls to leave him alone because he was too hurt by his old girlfriend and needed to be single for a while. I took it as a sign that I was doing the right thing by closing the book that’s been open a year too long.
I think this is closure?
On Saturday, there was a party. I went along as a favor to my friend, because I knew she wanted to go, but I knew she would not go alone. It was a rockabilly party in the basement and back yard of a bungalow that was once quaint, but was now a hipster den. The whole night was incredibly awkward. I stood waiting for something meaningful to happen. If my life was a movie, that would have been the moment where something happened – where I met a boy, or a new friend, or learned a startling revelation. Instead, nothing happened and I was bored out of my mind. Alcohol couldn’t even save this party for me.
As usual, the boy in the blue shirt I lusted over all night left with someone else.