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"he came at me with a dead hard slow run."
I knew from the first second with Andrew, it would be a no go... but god it was sooooo easy to fall into the lull of safety. ha!
I think a bunch about how fucking different my life is than it had been for eight years. Usually, it's a matter of me getting Andrew out of the house for a week (COVID ruined it for two years) to be with the kids so that I can have glorious glorious alone time.
now, I fucking almost look forward to work.
and if you knew me, you'd know how insane that is.
The clock ticks and slouching towards gee oh ridge ahh
I looked for apartments in Oakland even five minutes ago even knowing that it's dead to me here. Whatever I came here for, she's done.
what did I come here for?
I had decimated a life in order to have hot forbidden soul lust sex, and I flaunted it. There were days I don't even remember where I just smoked and smoked and smoked and drank and drank and longed and longed and longed. Then, I met someone cool who was in a cult, so I grabbed that illusion. It vaulted me into Oakland - away from all the disappointed faces - away from mirrors.
and here I sit and weep feeling so sorry for myself because ... I feel I have so little to show for it - a new name... a hilarious ironic master's degree... enormous debt... gaping holes of loss....
While it seems all those I love have (except my brother's kids - prayers) beautiful and fulfilling lives of ignorant bliss. Even with Andrew, I'm sure I'll feel envious of the financial security I had even though it was through having a generous roommate. I also made him pay more because he had three kids and made more and wanted this all when I had not really thought a lick about him after our first date. For all I cared, it could have been our last. He was so not quick. He had different humor than I did. He was socially weird not culturally weird. anyhoo, tonight on who cares besides me.
I walk the streets of Oakland where I used to live before I got married for like seven years and I was married for seven years. I sometimes think I'll run into that strange boyfriend I had - the one who hit me and cheated on me. He had a thing about Oakland and a "fantasy" of being homeless. He looks like so many here, and he was a beautiful man. I had thought that was going to be an amazing marriage - before the cheating and torpor. I've got to stop thinking with my ovaries. And much of the reason I chose Andrew was god knew I was no good at choosing anyone besides the "shinning" I had for mark - "I'm going to marry that dude." for Andrew, it was "I'm going to take that cool last name."
my bones now creak.
my skin sags.
I'm getting cancer screenings and ultrasounds
which I'm amazed at because it means I want to "waste" money on seeing if I can live longer when I've been such a suicidal give-up slopper my entire time on the board.
not so, but the end result here - I can't seem to understand what it's all been for as it seems a tadpole pathetic. I mean, my fucking cat died last month. Last year, I was spending all my time complaining about a man I'll now never see again. Now what missy. twice married. twice divorced.
and god in Himmel do I love being alone and being master of my own fate. and god in a shoebox does it make me feel so ... empty unmatched deflated purposeless... really? do I save as much money as I possibly can eating rice and vegetables and staying small and then one day die of something? seems fucking horrible. I want a house in the woods. I want a lover who loves me nearby. I want abundant wealth. I want friendships and laughter. I want dappled light and cider mead and pilsners and gardens and ...
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