08/08/00
"...my whole existence is flawed..."
Okay. Saturday night, Megan went out with her friends. I went to Zak's, and we were both so tired we nearly passed out on the couch. I got home around 10:30. Megan got home around 5:30 a.m.
Sunday morning I went to Cess Pool to hang out with my family. Sunday night, Megan was in a pissy mood and for some reason carrying the phone around with her like it was a blankie or something. Around 10:15, I said "I'm going to bed." She said "so am I." The phone rang. She had a conversation that she felt the need to take out to the backyard. She came inside and said "I'm going to get a cup of coffee."
I may have been born at night, but not last night.
That cup of coffee lasted until 2:30 in the fucking morning.
Why do I care? I'm sure under normal circumstances, I wouldn't. But this is the girl who four days ago professed to love me so fucking much she couldn't bear the thought of life without me.
Until Saturday night, when she met a girl named Alisha. Alicia? Whatever.
Alisha is apparently more butch than me. (Not like that's much of a stretch, RuPaul is butcher than me.) Alisha is "really fucking hot" and apparently a good kisser. Last night Alisha kept Megan busy until 3:30 in the morning and tonight, Megan gave Alisha a ride all the way to fucking Topeka fucking Kansas to "drop off her car."
I shouldn't care, should I? I shouldn't care, and I should confess to being a hypocrite because I spent last night having sex with Zak. But I do care. I care a lot. Because she couldn't stand the thought of being with me. She couldn't stand the thought of spending time with me. She didn't want to kiss me or hold my hand or anything of the sort. At least, not until I ended up in someone else's bed. And she didn't miss a fucking beat finding someone else. After four fucking years, it only took her one night to get over me.
That hurts. A hell of a lot.
I should be happy for her. I should be glad that she now has something to obsess over that doesn't involve "getting me back." I should look at this as an opportunity for us both to finally find happiness. But all I can really think about is that it wasn't that she was unhappy at all...it was that she was unhappy with me.
And yesterday, we were talking about how we need to just live together and learn to be friends and learn to like each other and see what happens. I know what's going to happen. The jealousy and the bitterness and the anger are just going to fester and boil until we end up so fucking happy to be away from each other we never speak again...and that chapter of our lives will close. We talked about how some time this week we should "hang out" together. Watch movies, order pizza. Whatever. She called me on my cell phone tonight and asked if I was free Thursday. I said, sure, why not. Then I asked where she was. Topeka. Then I asked why. And rather than come up with some pathetic lie that I wouldn't have believed but would have at least saved me some pain, she had to tell me that sweet darling Alisha had to drop off her car and she offered ever so humanitarianly to bring her home.
I think I'm going to be busy Thursday night. Fuck her. Why Thursday? Is darling Alisha busy that night? Was she in the fucking car with Megan when she called me? I could just puke. I could really just fucking puke all over myself. Call me what you will. Say I'm hypocritical. Say "but you left her." Say whatever you want. It won't make me hurt any less.
And to make matters worse, something is terribly wrong with Zak. He met me at the field today and it was obvious that something was very wrong. He barely spoke six words and I swear I thought he was going to cry. I know that his mother is dying pretty quick, but I would think that if she had actually died he would have told me. I asked him what was wrong, but he didn't say anything. Nothing at all. So I didn't push it. I figured if he wanted to tell me, he would. But I wonder if maybe I shouldn't have said something, made some kind of jesture, I don't know. I can't tell with him. I can't tell at all. I can no more read him than I can read Hebrew. I don't know how he feels about me, I don't know how he feels about anything, all I have to go on are my own speculations, my own fantasies, my own suppositions. And my gut instincts lately suck real bad.
I feel like I'm drowning.
I know that I can't be with Megan right now, and I don't know why. I know that she doesn't want to be with me and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I know I can't be with Zak, and I don't know why that is, either, because it seems like it could be so simple. Maybe I should say to fuck with both of them and have Jud set me up with one of his pretentious little cocksucker friends. Start from scratch with someone who isn't so fucking godawful complicated.
Is "humanitarianly" a word? Fuck it, at this point, I think I'm entitled to make up my own fucking language. One that no one understands. Hell, I feel like I already have, and I've been speaking it for years.
No hablo ingles, motherfucker.
I have to go now. I have to drive around listening to "Silver Spring" over and over again ("time cast its spell on you, but you won't forget me...I know I could have loved you but you would not let me...I'll follow you down til the sound of my voice will haunt you...you'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you..." get it?). I think I'll go to the liquor store and buy mass quantities of alcohol. Trouble is, I'll have a hangover if I do. Fuck it. I don't give a damn anymore. I really want to go over to Zak's and make him tell me what the fuck is wrong. At least make more of an impression that I actually care. But why should I? He knows how to find me. He knows I'm here. Doesn't he? I'm always here, for everyone. That's one of my biggest flaws. I'm willing to take on anyone else's agony and have yet to meet anyone who is willing to even briefly take on mine.
It's also, I feel, grossly unfair that Megan got to take out her anger at Zak. She called him everything but a white guy and called me a whore. He's not allowed to even call the house. Yet, I'm not allowed to have any feelings of anger or resentment or whatever about this Alisha cunt, because we've supposedly called a truce. What the fuck? Just another shining example of the double standards that run rampant in this relationship.
I fucking give up.
But wait, there's more...