the wait to hear back from a potential job opportunity has made time slow down some.

the wait to hear back from someone else had made it all but stop.

i’ve become so painfully sick of the thoughts in my head. just endless bullshit on loop. feeling sorry for myself. feeling disposable. feeling like i didn’t matter enough to anyone involved.

part of me wishes there was some sort of hidden reserve of strength to feel differently or the wisdom to know that i’m supposed to move on. currently i don’t have any of that. i spend all my energy on redirecting my thoughts to anything remotely distracting.

none of it changes the fact that i spend too much time up at night looking at the ceiling slowly dying from the pieces that have been removed. holding on with a desperate grasp to an idea that only i seem to be holding on to.

——————————————

“i came over and unlocked the door so she wouldn’t need to call a locksmith or something. fucking rushed there, feeling like a dog that was waiting for scraps, my stomach turning over and over.”

“i dunno man. did it go well? was it good?”

“no. not at all. i got to feel like an asshole and i said the same things over again. feeling lame. knowing that it was making it worse, pushing her away. as dumb as i may be, i’m not dumb enough to deny how difficult i’m making it for both of us.”

“then you left?”

“yeah. i went back home, i couldn’t bring myself to take any gas money. the part that eats at me the most was how she couldn’t look me in the eyes.”

“dude — come on. you gotta know none of this is ever easy.”

“yeah. but i got to drive home feeling second class as i thought about the mail on the counter, it had a name on it i didn’t want to see.”

“well you can’t expect to have her live in a cave.”

“yeah… sure, i know that man. it just hurts. you know? i spend all of my time in the middle of nowhere trying to reassemble myself and i know they had a good time drinking and laughing and having fun.”

“you don’t know that.”

“you’re right. i don’t. but, i can’t imagine it any other way. when did all of my worst fears come true and when in the fuck did i become ‘nothing special’?”

“i don’t have anything to say man.”

“it’s cool. there is nothing to say… i’ll just keep busy fading away. maybe someday i’ll get over it. someday i’ll shine again. then again, maybe my kidneys will fail or my heart will stop. my fingers are crossed.”