Juxtapositions: Living Alone

Living alone is weird when it’s been a long time since you’ve last done it.

I keep rattling around the apartment, looking at things and vaguely cleaning up. I realized today that Vivian and I lived together for exactly 1 year, because I took the key from her on July 11, 2007…and we moved into this place July 11, 2006. Four years together. You want some thoughts on the matter?

First is that helpless romantics are helpless. Part of you always thinks there’s something perfect you can do or say that will instantly heal the situation and bring it back to where it was. There isn’t. Don’t try so much you make a fool out of yourself. I’ve done that twice previously, and I was slipping down that slope this time for about a week when I arrested myself.

The second thing? I’ve been waiting for years to say that someone is a witless, stupid, meddling, worthless sack of human flesh. A real cunt. But, why bother? How much worse can life get than spending years on a worthless piece of paper, screwing up your own future by being absolutely retarded, and then getting to work a job that pays nothing and involves animal processing? Whatever gods she believes in have already punished her enough. I won’t out her to the internet out of respect for Vivian and Duffy, but most people can figure it out. I feel sorry for her new boyfriend. He’s got a real harpy of a catch, there.

Third, is that sometimes people are what they don’t want to be the most. To think of all the times I listened to Vivian bitch about how badly her ex-boyfriends treated her and cheated on her. She gets one who doesn’t. So what does she do? Right.

Some people need to learn that commitment is a two-way street and that communication is not just some stupid buzzword. You don’t have to be all touchy-feely about everything, but the point of a relationship is to work through problems together, preferably before they become problems.

I tried to help her with all of her problems, I now I know what the reward is. You’d think I would have remembered. I’m not even that mad at her. In fact, I still love her. That was never a lie. I already know that after this settles down some, I’ll still want to be friends with her. But my opinion, and my trust, of her is shot.

I’m not even really sad yet. I’m sure I will be, as the stuff starts to disappear from the apartment and I rattle around in here more. It could have been beautiful. But some people don’t actually want to be happy in their lives, and drape themselves in sadness because they’re afraid of the other side.

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