To commemorate today’s date I thought I’d share this most personal piece of prose with my invisible audience.
This is an excerpt from a diary I was keeping for a brief period last year. Absolutely no changes have been made to the original text so it gives you a true insight into how I was feeling at this time exactly one year ago. So full of heartbreak and angst I was!
Monday, 13th September 2010
The day after the end. Or not, if you choose to look at it that way, as I know you do. For me this is the day after you told me it was over. That we were over. You’d say we broke up a month ago…
Last night was truly hard for me, the night your fear overcame your hope. After hours of discussion, brief false hopes, hateful words, dinner, heartfelt promises, expressed disappointments, we both walked away on the life that we’d been building together for so long.
It was especially poignant that it was also the night you’d finished packing the remainder of your belongings, as you had recently moved abodes. The place we’d made so many memories was now an empty husk awaiting new inhabitants to breathe life into and make their own memories/mistakes.
No more was it filled with your life, your possessions.
The ceramic frogs no longer held up the glass of your coffee table or glanced at you from the bookcase, which was now also gone. No more Jodi Picoult. No more Michael Jackson hanging from the wall. No more terrarium I’d made for you that refused to grow. No more Nintendo Wii.
Your desertion of the place we’d shared a majority of our time together only added to the finality, to the goddamn miserable-ness of it all.
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Returning to work after the breakdown of our relationship was hell. Luckily enough I was pretty much left to my own devices, so instead of the usual distraction of the tribulations of highly troubled formerly homeless young people, I endured the purgatory of late night TV…
Things To Come, the 1936 sci-fi classic, adapted from one of H.G. Wells early works, told the story of Man clinging to science to advance civilization. Man’s struggle from under the rubble of annihilation and into the wilds of space. A brilliant story and I didn’t care about any of it.
Stupid rocket gun/spaceship bullet.
This was the first prickly thorn in my audiovisual punishment.
This was followed by Talking Heads. The host was talking about jazz with some guy I assumed was a jazz player. I don’t know much about jazz so maybe jazz isn’t an instrument that can be played. I don’t know.
First Tuesday Book Club followed. They were talking about The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. I’ve never read the book but it sounded suitably miserable. I think I’d like to hang out and share a few tales with Tom Joad.
20/20 told the tale about an Amercian man eventually proven innocent for the murder of his daughter after numerous miscarriages of justice. Normally I’d feel for this guy. I mean, he was charged with the murder of his own flesh and blooded, spent untold days and nights indecently incarcerated. Unjustly no less. Still, his girlfriend hadn’t just broken up with him.
Subpar New Zealand soap Shortland Street followed by long forgotten Australian soap Something in the Air. The misery concluded with a repeat of The New Inventors from 2007.
Christ, I wish I’d been able to put you out of my mind and get to sleep.
Monday. The actual day.
Swimming with Dave is a godsend. Every weekday morning at 9:00am.
I’m not sure how I would have endured the Limbo I’ve been living in since that oft mentioned Saturday morning, the Saturday morning a month ago that catalysed the end of us, without this daily ritual to look forward to. The physical exercise is rewarding enough but it’s really the “peer counselling” that is the most rewarding. It’s good to have someone to talk to.
I tell Dave all about last night’s developments, as I have been doing regularly for the past month. Dave has listened to all of my musings about you.
I don’t know how he does it, I must sound pathetic.
Today Dave seems slightly puzzled by the new ending. As am I.
Only a week ago we had the best conversation about the reasons you were dissatisfied with me as your partner. I really felt that we were finally dealing with issues that had been building up for months. For me the outlook after that was hopeful. A week is a long time I guess.
Still, I don’t understand why, if you’re walking away from the relationship, you found it so hard to tell me it was done. That it was over.
I practically had to beg/force you to tell me it was over and even then you couldn’t look me in the eyes and say it. You basically just ended the relationship with your shoes.
Still, the words were said. As much as everything about it screamed that you were unsure about the decision you were making, the words were said. Perhaps my desperation and desire for us to stay together was making me see things that weren’t there.
You said it “It’s over.” I need to let it go.
Ahh, that takes me back. Good times, great memories.