An Unbearable Feeling of Just Wanting to Get it Over With

I meant to say all this before. I meant to never say it at all.

I meant to give up before now.

Three weeks and I’m still sad, but narrower than before. Three weeks of silent bouts of dramatics and reconfiguration. When it rains it pours, and like California, I don’t always know what to do with all this rain.

I have been angry. I have been quiet. I have been guarded.

I found a rent-controlled apartment. My co-worker asked, why do good things always happen to other people? Meanwhile, I’ve been asking, why do things always get harder? Why am I never enough? Why am I doing this to myself?

I don’t think he and I know each other at the moment. I think we both know, or at least I believe, decisions like this are final. My friend asked me if I thought we’d get back together. I don’t. I think even if that was on the table, while I would want to, in our current states, we’re no longer viable. I couldn’t give you an easy answer as to why.

All I ever really wanted was to be with him. Not in one way or another, but to be in each other’s lives. I wanted commitment in the form of consistency, not in labels. I guess that’s on the table now, but not really.

Yesterday, we had our final date. I’m going to call it a date. That’s what it was supposed to be before all this. We went to the movies. He tried to pay for dinner and I wouldn’t let him. He stood next to me, bodies too close for platonics. I tried to build over my emotions.

He offered to help me move, but he should know me better by now. I wanted to see his play, but his friends attended instead.

He was there for me, but he won’t let me do the same.

Cemented, cocooned, and calloused. I can intellectualize it all I want, but it doesn’t shed my anxieties. I haven’t felt anxiety about him, in speaking to him, in a long time. I don’t think I ever did like this.

And still, I watch him. I watch him more than he looks at me. He’s beautiful, and he’s gone.

Stagnancy, complacency, wanting, lingering. Overlapping.

Rage and devastation.

Crybaby.

He let it linger.

He followed thru on his promise.

I’m not going to be mad at him.

He said something, without realizing, about me being the fun girl. I am so tired of being the fun girl, but I also only want to be the fun girl. It depends on the context.

I hold myself. I build over.

I told him I would text him an ETA tonight.