I spent hours cleaning my room tonight. It hadn’t been done in ages. I’d been using it as a dumping ground while I slept on the couch downstairs. The job isn’t complete but it’s looking much better than it was. I pulled six bags of garbage out of there, but, to be fair, most of that was clothes. Or pillows. For some fucking reason I had about nine pillows.
(The colour scheme of that room sucks. It was like that when I moved in. I’m going to paint it next week. I haven’t decided on a colour yet but I like green and I like green with yellow and blue. So, what I’m saying, is that I’ll probably go with green. But anything would be better than fucking lavender.)
Cleaning the room was like an archaeological dig. I found some stuff that I have to return to X. I had a picture of her taped to the top of my old computer. That kind of upset me. I have another picture of her in a plastic, stand-up frame thing. I left the photo on the monitor and put the monitor in my closet. One day, I’ll see that pic and I’m hoping it makes me smile.
But I don’t know what to do about the other one. It’s a really good shot of her on the subway. She looks great and she looks happy. She still looks great but I haven’t seen her happy in some time. And that’s what upsets me. I’ve managed to make her miserable. That was something I never meant to do. I would do so much to see that smile again.
Do is the operative word. There were two things that I had learned the hard way years ago. I managed to forget them both. The first is that love is a verb, not a noun. It’s all about what you fucking do and you should be doing things for a person. Things that please them as opposed to things that upset them. That’s what love is and that’s what makes it better. You forget that at your peril.
The other is a bit more pragmatic. Love is chemical. It needs a lot of touching to provide the emotion. Over time people can love anything that they touch enough. Shit, I love my cat and I love Barney the Teddy Bear. One is an animal and the other is just a stuffed piece of cloth. Stop touching and you’re in trouble. A hug feels good. We all know this. Maybe not from a stranger or your neighbor, but they feel bloody terrific otherwise.
I just fucking wish I knew what to do. Even, really, what my goals are. I know that I want to be with X. Yet, I also accept that she doesn’t feel the same about me. Or do I? Hope springs eternal. It was also the last and most dangerous evil that Pandora released from that box.
I don’t even know if I’ve entered into this friendship in an honest sort of way. Is this some sort of ruse to try to win her back; am I just the victim of emotions right now, trying to get over her and not doing very well; is this humpty dumpty? What the fuck? I don’t know.
I find it hard to believe that she doesn’t love me anymore and that it’s not worth another shot. But just because something is hard to believe, doesn’t mean it’s false. After all the world is round when it looks flat. The sooner I come to terms with that, the better. If I can. If I want to.
4 comments
1 ping
Anonymous
January 23, 2007 at 12:31 pm (UTC -5)
I’ve been where you are Grumpy. Your pain seems to jump out at me thru the screen . In my life, I reget not giving my X that second chance. None of the problems were insurmountable . Wish I could have seen that then . Oh well, at least you have a clean room .
A question for the owl this week . Is it really better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all ?
Ryan Oakley
January 23, 2007 at 3:07 pm (UTC -5)
Thanks for the owl question. It’ll be the first that I didn’t have to come up with.
Melly
January 23, 2007 at 10:00 pm (UTC -5)
Awesome question from anon and no better time to answer it.
I still think you need a proper bed…
Ryan Oakley
January 24, 2007 at 4:29 am (UTC -5)
There’s nothing wrong with that bed.
Grumpy’s Yearview Mirror « The Grumpy Owl
December 31, 2007 at 9:25 pm (UTC -5)
[...] And, as loyal readers may recall, I was a train-wreck. [...]