Monday, September 17, 2012

I awoke this morning. 5:27 AM. Let the alarm go back to sleep this morning. Don't worry about it little buddy. I'm up .

The last time that I was up that early, to start a first day of work so early, (with my legs goose-bumped and a wonderful chill coming in through the window whispering the first promises of autumn)  was at least three, no four years ago. And try as I might sometimes, I cannot remember things. I will try. Good or bad, I just can't remember things. But others, it's like nothing could hold off the memories and scents and flashbacks if I tried.

This morning was the latter. I awake and it was... four years back.......

My ringtone was Yellow Ledbetter, my children were in diapers, Chupa was mine and mine alone to love, I worked in drafty wet and cold docks and warehouse temp jobs, ate off foodstamps, lived on a street named after only a letter in the alphabet, I sought shelter in the beautiful abode of my wonderful friends in Custer, and treated my Rhi Rhi and Ghi Ghi (my live-in friends/babysitters like shit without knowing I was doing it). I was a black pit. I gave a bit, I did. But I took far more. I did love them. All of them. The lot of them... true love.

I could smell formula this morning. I could smell evergreens. I could smell unwashed clothing. Salty hair. I could smell the logs burning in the Stabbin' Cabin down in Birch Bay and the Pacific Ocean even with the snow falling in December.

This morning, remembering these things, I felt ashamed and proud. I didn't want to be there, I don't want to go back, but I miss it. How that is possible I have no idea. But there it is.

Working early, monotonous labor, with that chill in the air, makes me feel alive. Reborn. Worth, something. Makes me feel complete when I return home.

What a long ways I have come, how small it seems some days. 

Saturday, September 15, 2012

And my tears run dry.....

It started with a comment about how I could probably throw a really mean punch.

Then one day I gave 'im one. And he didn't seem to think it was pretty anymore. My knuckles and hands and... well, general existence.

He left me. Those three words have played in my head in every form possible over and over again. He. Him. Boy. Beloved. Gone. Left. Away. Disappeared. Me. I. Broken-hearted. Moi. Alone. Stranded.

Set aside. Tossed aside. Wondering what happened .

My mother told me that prior to his unexpected leaving, he told her of his plans. And she even told him; you can't just, leave somebody, when they are not doing well, and then come back.  That will destroy her and she will hate you for it. He was okay with that.

I am horrible in a relationship capacity I guess. I really truly am. I am a slutbag, I am a drug addict, granted- over a year clean now, but yes, I am not Suzie Homemaker that's for sure. But man, did I try. And I loved him truly and so deeply.

Now this morning I wake up and am just livid. If you love someone, you stay. If you care, you stay. You don't leave, you don't tell them it's the amicable way to desert them, when they promise to strive to do better. And I really would have. I would have given it my fucking all.

I guess, I am better off without someone in my life that was so quick to leave me anyhow. Right? Right?

I at the moment, cannot listen to Chris Cornell, Pearl Jam leaves me misty eyed, I hate that Little Caesars commercial- the one we both laughed at so hard, I hate that the Food Network featured so many damn things to do about Dickson Street in frickin' Fayetteville AR today, I can't put on anything sexy, I don't want to smell Blue Moon beer.

It's taken me thirteen times to try and write this meaningless dribble.

What I can't even fathom, is that he kept screaming and crying that he loved me, as he walked out the door, and wouldn't reply to my emails begging for communication.

Now who feels stupid. Yep. You can point, I'll forgive it this time.