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Monday, May 21, 2007 


There comes a point in many relationships when you go to bed alone, wake up alone, and the person sleeping peacefully next to you keeps on sleeping, or at least pretending to, while you lay awake staring at the ceiling. Disconnect.

You take road trips and during your time at the wheel they sleep. They sleep so you can listen to your cd's without their complaints and they sleep through you crying every time a love song comes on because you are overcome with that feeling. That feeling that you are missing out, that there is something else out there, something perhaps a little less dysfunctional? You stare at couples in passing cars because he keeps telling you that you're demanding, that he's perfectly normal, you stare at couples wondering if they are really happy with less, if you're looking for something that really doesn't exist; something that even if you had you would still throw away.

You fight and you fight because you call a handyman to fix the door and he screams until he turns into something ugly over the insult, the absolute incredulity that you would insinuate a handyman is better than him, and you are suppressing your rage because you just want to go to dinner and come home to a door that doesn't fall off the hinges anymore. At dinner he says women who stay home with only one child are lazy and your friend is trash and should give her child up for adoption. Sure. He's looking for a fight. But he's always looking for a fight. And when you say you hate this he says, "for someone who doesn't like to fight you sure like to fight a lot".

Which makes you realize something.

The only way to stop fighting is to take this, be okay with this, or leave.

My days are filled with unpacking boxes in my new place, a place too small for all of these boxes, and I confess; I just don't know what to do. I sold furniture on craigslist. I bought a new sofa at Macy's outlet. I take Izzy for walks and for the most part, I feel good. I think everyone thinks I'll go back because I've gone back before. Except the truth is that this hurts less. Being lonely, when you're actually alone, makes more sense. And now, when I wonder what is else out there, I feel hope.

I'm going on four nights of bad dreams. Stupid dreams that shouldn't sit with me, but do. I dreamt that I had to shave my face each morning and was horrified to discover that I had an Adam's apple. All day I felt slightly disgusted.

My mother tells me to fix myself before I start dating again. She talks to me like I am someone else, someone stupid who wears too much hairspray. I remind her that I was single for years, that if there is any fixing left to do that I am obviously incapable of it. My friend laughs when I tell her, "I don't need to fix anything. I'm PERFECT". Except it's true. There's nothing wrong with me. And I'm not going to jump on the bandwagon of thinking I need to be perfect to be happy.

It didn't work out. Isn't that every one's life story? Oh sure, it's the part they tend to edit out, but trust me, it's there.


I Can't Help You Now - Look, I have two songs on my hard drive that don't have the name 'iTunes' tatooed to their asses, so suck it
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