Ah, yes.
It's been two weeks now and I wake up every morning and I think of him. I lay there and try to remember the feeling of his soft warmth pressed up against my naked back. I imagine his freckled hand resting on the bed just under my nose, in front of my lips. By this point my eyes are usually welling up, but I keep remembering things on purpose.
I always remember the times I woke up briefly to discover him kissing my forehead as I slept. Then the tiny sobs come and I clutch at the blanket and stare wetly at the ceiling.
And so I kick the days off by weeping quietly into my pillow for 45 minutes before I get up. Strangely, I usually feel better soon after I arise. I'm enjoying being single again. I don't really miss him that much. I'm always single - I'm used to it by now, right?
***
Sometimes I think the best way of understanding my relationship with, uh, relationships is to envision me as a dog in a pound that was rescued from a neglectful owner. I'm a sweet, smart little bitch, and some might even say cute. However, slightly nuts: clingy and nervous. Yet I'm desperately loyal and in need of a firm, careful hand.
As of yet, I have not met anyone who gave enough of a shit to try to take me home. A few teasing little walks with prospective owners, but for the most part, it's been a solitary existence.
And so I sit alone in my gray cage and wait to be euthanized.
Whimper, whimper.
I always remember the times I woke up briefly to discover him kissing my forehead as I slept. Then the tiny sobs come and I clutch at the blanket and stare wetly at the ceiling.
And so I kick the days off by weeping quietly into my pillow for 45 minutes before I get up. Strangely, I usually feel better soon after I arise. I'm enjoying being single again. I don't really miss him that much. I'm always single - I'm used to it by now, right?
***
Sometimes I think the best way of understanding my relationship with, uh, relationships is to envision me as a dog in a pound that was rescued from a neglectful owner. I'm a sweet, smart little bitch, and some might even say cute. However, slightly nuts: clingy and nervous. Yet I'm desperately loyal and in need of a firm, careful hand.
As of yet, I have not met anyone who gave enough of a shit to try to take me home. A few teasing little walks with prospective owners, but for the most part, it's been a solitary existence.
And so I sit alone in my gray cage and wait to be euthanized.
Whimper, whimper.
posted by Kathleen | 2:32 am
That's actually slightly pathetic. I've never understood the dynamics of being clingy.
Of course it's pathetic. The lonely bitch is the way I picture myself when I'm feeling most downtrodden (ie, right after I've extricated myself from yet another shitty boyfriend).
And being clingy, at least in my case, results from being lied to and used over and over again. When you've been treated like a blowup doll by every other guy you've dated, but suddenly this new one is acting like he really cares about you and not just your tits, it's hard not to be "clingy." Not to mention all sorts of other tangential Freudian crap.
PS: I made this post as "emo" as possible because I have another blog wherein I discuss these same things, but with a humorous, sarcastic air. At some point you've just got to be maudlin. The cunty anger will come later.
Excellent, excellent... Always good to see a post where someone's compared themselves to a stray, unloved dog at the top of LIAC.
Also, the 45-minute-weep at the start of each day is beautiful.
Apparently "euthanase" is a Britishism I am not familiar with.
A search for "euthanize" on dictionary.com yields the definition, "to subject to euthanasia." Euthanasia is defined as the practice of ending the life of one who is suffering from terminal illness, blah blah. No definition for "euthanase."
I am not incorrect. I'm just not from the UK. ;)