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9-9-08 // 9:37 pm drinking & feeling bitter I like this weather. I like *weather*. Yesterday evening I sat out on my front balcony and could taste & feel the humidity increase as the sky grew darker and the storms inched closer. There's menace and beauty in the deep gray against the barely believable green of the trees and the rich brown-red of the south city bricks. Hours later, I felt the first traces of the cool breeze swing through. This morning there was a chill in the air, and come quitting time, the city was awash in clean, clear lines and the sharpness of what eventually turns into fall. I took a miles long walk through the neighborhood and through the park, marveling at the 6 o'clock sunlight filtering through the trees and onto the paths, Victorian shelters and freshly mown meadows. Right now, I'm consistently confronted with a bittersweet taste in my mouth. I'm thrilled to be back in my city, near my family & friends, in a beautiful old brownstone in a real neighborhood. The park is two blocks from my front door, and restaurants, shops & pubs are right on the corner. When I lived here the first time, closer to the main drag, "I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning" had just come out, and I played it to death. It was my city record, too. Granted, I wasn't in Brooklyn, but I was a fellow midwestern boy in the heart of the (a) city. The brownstones on the cover were cousins of the ones on my block. I'm relieved to find that, 3+ years later, that record still feels like the city, like this neighborhood, like home. It's nervous and sad and overwhelmed and full of bravado; it's full of beers in neon-lit corner bars and coffee & paper mornings with horns honking and the traffic zipping by. It's a hurt heart emanating an imperfect man, which I think was and is me. It's funny that I find myself back here twice, immediately after breaking up. The first time was different, though. It was my naive declaration of independence. It was beautiful, and I left just as I was barely scratching the surface. This time, I'm back. I'm no world-weary guru, but I know my way around the city. Cities. It's again a declaration of independence, but it's not defiant. It's quiet, but meaningful...almost concilatory. It's like I'm saying, "I'm sorry south side, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry I left...can I come back home?" It's reclaiming what once was, but with a twist, with a different, older, more experienced me. And I won't lie...my heart is a mess. Now that I'm finally regaining some semblance of normalcy in my life, all of the emotions that could be shoved aside in favor of working on the current to-do list are now rushing to the forefront. I didn't even realize what was going on until a few days ago. I feel awful for being so short and moody with the people I care the most about. I've tried to explain to them what's going on, but I don't think I tell them enough. I also don't think they quite understand - they haven't been through what I've been through, or they weren't out on the west coast with me to see my day-to-day for three years. But in defense of the rest of the world, I do have a tendency to internalize these things...I don't want to worry anyone. But I'm in mourning. What I honestly and truly thought was the one great love of my life...it's over. I'm the one that ended it, but I felt like I didn't have any other choice. I was willing to keep trying, but she shut herself down. So I did was was best for me in the long run. And I'm proud of myself for doing it, and happy that I ended up back here! It feels right, it feels like where I'm *meant* to be. But it doesn't also mean that I don't miss what's ended. Things weren't perfect between the two of us, but they were good for a long time. I thought what we had was real, honest, supportive, truthful, loving. It required lots of effort, but the payoffs were spectacular. I just wanted to be an important part of her life. Not the most important part, just something worthy of focus and attention. What hurts the most is her chickenshit attitude. One of the phrases indelibly scorched into my memory is "I don't have time for a relationship right now". A brutal, even lazy, thing to say, but at least honest. Or so I thought. I was displeased and upset by it, but I really believed I could deal with that. I'd worked my ass off for three years, and after begging and pleading with her to show me some soul, to tell me about her heart and what I could do to make it warm again, and after not getting an ounce of whatever's really beneath that icy glaze...I ended it. And now to hear -- well, I heard a month and change ago for the first time -- but to hear again that she's seeing someone else, that sets off a pinball machine in my brain. The more I think about it, the more I realize it's about two things. For one, she apparently *does* have time for a relationship. Just not with me. #2, it's this way it keeps getting thrown into my face when I think she's just calling to ask about how to log in to pay a certain bill, or did I accidentally pack something of hers. That nervous, almost ashamed sound in her voice means that an hour later, I'm going to get a stammered-out confession. Well, I got another one (the second) a little over a week ago. Apparently she's taking things slow with the new guy (my replacement - I guess he's learning the ropes as I write this, the poor bastard), but that they're exclusive and that they're in a relationship. She wanted to be able to change her Facebook status to match and to show him...it's only fair to him, natch. She says. So what am I, then? I think what truly upsets me the most right now is that here I am, not pining away and not wanting her back, but grieving over the end of what I felt was an amazing thing, person & relationship. And there she is, jumping straight to someone new *and* rubbing my nose in it. I thought what we had meant more. It sure as hell meant more to me. All of the passion, the sacrifice, the love, the exploration, the adventure, the mundane stuff, and the way she helped me grow and improve as a person? What did that mean? What did all of my support and devotion mean to her? Apparently not as much as it meant to me. Well fuck that. Today I once again stood up to her, told her again how badly she hurt me, said everything I've just poured out here, and topped it off with "We can talk if you want, but I don't want to hear about your love life again." It's not going to make me feel instantly better, and it hasn't altogether...but at least so far today I've felt like I can breathe a little more free. But I'm also plain old anxious, heartsick and woozy.
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