saturday morning
3/18/14
there is something about the quiet of a home. the small noises that make a house seem a creature unto itself. the heavy breath of the central heat, groaning on and ceasing. the ticking of a clock, like a heartbeat. the sighs of a dog and the scuffling of playing cats' paws across the hardwood floor. in the bedroom upstairs i acn hear my best friend yawning, hesitant to leave the warmth and comfort of his bed, where only moments ago the warmth was doubled by the presence of a lover.
it is saturday morning and already i know how many days since any communication between my ex and me. that's such an ugly sentence, but i don't even want to type his name. i woke to pain and discomfort, another inconvenience of surprise surgery. i became anxious to be home, anxious to have access to my baghroom and shower, but realized if it didn't get better i could just take a shower in the laundry room.
i did a load of laundry as we watched tv last night. i didn't feel as anxious as i thought i would being the third wheel. and i enjoyed being out of my house since the past three days have been spent stuck at home. granted, i love being home. but it isn't exactly like i'm partying or getting a bunch of housework done.
i was just telling stacy how i made the joke that the only way i'd get a vacation was if i were in the hospital for a week. this is basically the same idea. but i'm so broke and so obligated to school that, again, i can't enjoy too much of the extra time off.
the worst part by far about this recovery is that i just got dumped. talk about shitty timing. not that he could have done anything to make the inconvenience of it less, but it would have felt nice to have his sweet company. to make soup with him. watch movies. talk. be together.
and instead i'm struggling to let go of the way i feel about him. stuck in my head, less occupied with tasks because my body is not totally functional right now. and getting stuck in these cycles of thinking about why i wasn't good enough are driving me insane.
i keep letting these fantasies play in my mind like cheesy movies.
there is something about the quiet of a home. the small noises that make a house seem a creature unto itself. the heavy breath of the central heat, groaning on and ceasing. the ticking of a clock, like a heartbeat. the sighs of a dog and the scuffling of playing cats' paws across the hardwood floor. in the bedroom upstairs i acn hear my best friend yawning, hesitant to leave the warmth and comfort of his bed, where only moments ago the warmth was doubled by the presence of a lover.
it is saturday morning and already i know how many days since any communication between my ex and me. that's such an ugly sentence, but i don't even want to type his name. i woke to pain and discomfort, another inconvenience of surprise surgery. i became anxious to be home, anxious to have access to my baghroom and shower, but realized if it didn't get better i could just take a shower in the laundry room.
i did a load of laundry as we watched tv last night. i didn't feel as anxious as i thought i would being the third wheel. and i enjoyed being out of my house since the past three days have been spent stuck at home. granted, i love being home. but it isn't exactly like i'm partying or getting a bunch of housework done.
i was just telling stacy how i made the joke that the only way i'd get a vacation was if i were in the hospital for a week. this is basically the same idea. but i'm so broke and so obligated to school that, again, i can't enjoy too much of the extra time off.
the worst part by far about this recovery is that i just got dumped. talk about shitty timing. not that he could have done anything to make the inconvenience of it less, but it would have felt nice to have his sweet company. to make soup with him. watch movies. talk. be together.
and instead i'm struggling to let go of the way i feel about him. stuck in my head, less occupied with tasks because my body is not totally functional right now. and getting stuck in these cycles of thinking about why i wasn't good enough are driving me insane.
i keep letting these fantasies play in my mind like cheesy movies.
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