c'est fini

Hey. well this is stuff that I'd like to document, but not necessarily remember.

Last week a weird blur. Last nite october snow? Yesterday 1st day of period -- hormones raging. Weds night I was screaming at Rem "IT'S OVER." Last night I was screaming "I fucking love you - I FUCKING LOVE YOU." And then went into the kitchen, smashed a tea cup and broke the handle on a casserole. Like in a fucking rage.
It's all a contest -- who can scream louder -- who can interrupt the most. Mostly fighting is so useless. The same patterns, same circles into nowhere. Sad.

Why I went into a rage is that Rem likes to prescribe emotions to me. Something I've come to recognize as mild emotional abuse/ manipulation. He goes "you have a deep hatred for me." "T'as plus envie de voir ma geule." "You can't stand me being here". His form of fighting is like to tell ME how I feel about him. Mr. Oversimplification. It's like he has been asleep the past year, and can't see how he has influenced our current situation. How he is in a depressed rut & can no longer nourish our relationship, and isn't planning a future for me + him. Just one bleak one for him.
It's infuriating, incensing, I can't begin to describe.
The only silver lining about all this is that I can see so clearly now the necessity of a commitment to someone. I suppose that it can happen tacitly. But it must happen. Otherwise you are sleepwalking zombies in the same house. I guarantee. Because it truly is too painful to look hard at your problems. Too much pain is too hard to live in. So you ignore it, turn to "sleep" mode. We're all guilty.
Because of my own demand that he leave the domicile, I will be the one to pull the trigger, to drive the car into a ditch and abandon it on the side of the road. Someone needed to get into the drivers seat. There was a ghost driver and sleeping passengers. So it's me, who will drive him to Logan or the bus or whatever. Just like we've always done. Except this time he may never come back. I will cry for days. I will try to make sense of this mess. I will lie in bed alone the past 4 years of my life screening in my brain eternally. I will sweep up dust with some of the dirt from his shoes and it will make me cry. I will need someone to fix something in my car and he won't be there. I will wonder if I should buy his overpriced cranberry tea bread at Maple Farm. I will cry. I will cry. He will cry, on another continent. This is the first/ only breakup I will endure long distance. He will return to being a name in my inbox, or a green camera on gchat.

You know that deep pain in your neck when you are crying about something really painful? I felt that in a flash yesterday, looked in the mirror at my red eyes and blotches, and then examined some of my grey hairs. It made my crying increase/ Like the pain of going through a breakup, while having grey hair. the juxtaposition of all that strikes me as sad. I didn't have grey hairs 2 or 3 years ago. I have them now; I have aged, I have acquired wisdom. But some wisdom I chose not to acknowledge. And now I am old. The wisdom has come to stay. The folly of youth has moved past me. Us getting together now seems so frivilous. Such a shame, so truly appropriate, to learn everything the relationship had to teach you only at the very end, as it is leaving you.

I'll soon be the kind of person who jumps desparately from activity to activity, hoping to re-assemble something resembling myself and come out alive. Overpriced Yoga class? Yes. Knitting circle? Yes. Concert of music I hate? Yes. So, I'll see you out there, because that is where I'll be.