05/09/2010 *edit

Drove down to Seaside to visit family Friday night.

Received a text the next morning that said something to the effect of "I am no longer in love with you, this is not going to get better."

I get it, I really do.  That doesn’t make it any easier though.  Part of me wonders if my mostly calm and dispassionate reaction to this in any way has anything to do with the fact that I’ve sort of expected it for about the last 3 years.

The most difficult part of this is that we are still each others best friends – That’s what we started out with, and that’s what we have now.  I wish I knew if a clean break and shutting down contact would make this less difficult.  Somehow I don’t think that either of us could really do that.  We have been part of each others lives for more than a third of our years.  I can’t just scratch that name off my list, crumple it up and toss it over my shoulder as I walk away.

I was asked if I had considered going home.  The thought had crossed my mind, but there is no work in my hometown.  Just a flood of things that would surround me and remind me of her – the high school we both attended, the beach where we would go at night to look at the stars and be together, the playground where we would go and play on the swings even though we were too old to be doing that anyway…  Even being in my own house is too much, to sit in the room where we shared our first kiss, or sleep in the room where we hid when we skipped school.  It all just whispers, and sometimes babbles – it’s gone now…

There isn’t an inch of that town that doesn’t have a memory of us attached to it.  Going back there is like walking through a museum that showcases everything you’ve ever lost in your entire life, from the mundane to the heartbreaking. 

Jesus this is depressing.

*****Edit*****

and now for some more depressing shit.  This is my first attempt at anything resembling poetry, well, in nearly a decade.  It’s depressing too.  Happy birthday to me.

The anger doesn’t
scream.
it whispers. Insidious

little oily spasms of hateful ecstasy.
Reason HOWLS,
you know this is
wrong, right?
Rage is a
deafening rasp.