it's killing me.
written: 6:37 p.m. on Tuesday, Sept. 13, 2005

You broke my record. I thought I'd go through life proudly proclaiming that I've never had "my heart broken" before; well, congratulations to you for being the first.

Broken and stamped upon and all the knives plunged in there, insidious pain, I hardly noticed it was bleeding but yeah, I see that huge patch of red now.

So, how does it feel being on the receiving end of the "let's break up" speech (only, in this case, it's rather warped and heavily modified, but effectively the purpose served is the same)? How does it feel to know that the other person doesn't care about you the same way you (think you?) care about him? Must be pretty awful, eh.

I guess this is what some people call Retribution.

I've never got burnt this way before. I wish I'd said more, all the things I drafted in my head, my perfectly crafted speeches. I wish I'd said less, just cut to the chase, eliminate room for further knife-stabs. "I don't want to see you anymore."

Wait, not entirely accurate, not succinct enough; we don't see each other anyway. "Don't call me." Um, then again, you never call.

Don't contact me. Don't SMS me. Don't MSN me. I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you, I don't even want you in my life.

So, crucify me for being extreme, but it's either this or that, no in between, the ambiguity drove me mad, what the fuck was I thinking when I went along with the uncertain grey area? Does it hurt more to let go or more to cling on? It was a mistake from the start; but hindsight gives me 20/20 vision, so was it a worthy gamble? Was he a worthy gamble?

Hindsight says, No.

But what good is perfect vision when you're looking back, when things have already been committed to black and white and are therefore irreversible?

I said, We either fix the problem or we walk away.

Since there was no solution to the problem we walked away.

Since the problem wasn't worth fixing we walked away.

Since I don't mean enough to him for him to stay we walked away.

When I sent that SMS I saw this coming, pictured it in my head and the end result I envisioned came true. If anticipation is supposed to bolster the hurt then whoever came up with this crock of shit is either utterly naive or completely braindead, or both. Most likely? It's both.

Let's pretend we never met each other, that none of this ever happened, that you were never in my life. Do we blame it on bad timing or school which changed everything or me for being neurotic or you for being confused? And when you finally made up your mind it was just...

August 26 was the beginning of an end.

Or maybe the end began when we (whatever "we" entailed, if there was even one at all) began.

I think of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" and how Joel and Clementine erased memories of each other but end up falling in love with each other all over again. What does it say about the human heart? It's weak and it's stupid. It isn't about fate, it's about the mistakes that you make because you're too weak to resist them. If I had my memories erased I'd probably walk down the exact same path a second time and end up here writing this incoherent entry feeling this immense ache and wishing I'd never met Clarence.

And it fucking hurts because my subconsciousness knew that I would've dropped everything just to see him, that I would've made time for him, that he would've been on the top of my priority list. That he would've displaced my position on the top of my priority list. And the way it unfolded, it was pretty clear that I wasn't anywhere on his priority list - well, he said it didn't feel that way to him, but how is that supposed to make a difference?

Maybe that's it, you know? You don't get it. You don't go out with a girl if you have no intention of taking it up a notch to another level, unless all you wanted was a two-month fling - in that case, you should've said so right from the very beginning.

Right now, from the bottom of my heart, I really, really hate you.

I'd get over it in due time.

You'd probably get over it in two days.

I can't even finish counting on both hands the number of knives that are lodged in this curious organ of mine that is commonly called a "heart" right now.

Please. Just make it stop.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010