ihavebeenfloated

It’s weird to think such a large part of my life for so long (10 months now, a few weeks more even) is now gone forever.

I loved Trista, I really did. For a long time I thought she was the one for me, someone irreplaceable. I’m sorry things had to end the fucked up way they did, but I guess there was no other option for me.

Our weekend went fairly well. We had some major issues on Thursday night and worse issues most of Friday. Pretty much I had the same issues I always have, an inability to trust her and to clear my mind of the fact that she cheated on me.

Saturday was alright except for the fact that our plans to go to this party were ruined by the fact that the guy she cheated on me with decided at the last minute to show up. That sucked. We didn’t go, natrulich.

Sunday was actually pretty good. I took her out to dinner. We went and saw Pirates and I ended up taking her home at about 1:00 AM because she said she was tired. She didn’t actually need to go home, neither of us had school today, but she said she didn’t want to spend another day at my house watching me sleep, so, fair enough. She was tired and wanted to go to sleep.

I gave her my large blue ceramic erection I made in Ceramics last semester. She’d been begging and begging for it, so since we were doing so well the last four weekends, I decided that she can take it as long as I can get it back pending a break up. She was really happy to see it.

When I left her at her house we kissed and, really, it was the nicest moment we ever shared together. I really felt like she loved me and that everything would be OK between us. I left feeling really good.

Around 2:30 AM I get a really funny feeling that something isn’t right. The feeling was the same one I had on the night she cheated on me, and on top of that there was a lightning/thunder storm going on which was exactly what was happening on that night. So I figured I’d just roll with it and go ahead and drive over to her house, because otherwise I’d go crazy with worry. She wasn’t answering her phone.

I got to her house, no lights on, not even in her bedroom. I assumed she was sleeping and started to drive off. Then I remembered that Trista is scared of the dark and has to sleep with a light on.

So I called her phone, it rang through to the voice mail.

I called again, this time she answered, completely alert and not asleep at all. It was about 3:30AM. She was at Arthur’s, playing guitar hero. We talked while I drove back to my house and I told her about my intuition which somewhat accurately predicted that she wasn’t where she told me she was. I told her to please go home soon (as it was 4:00AM which is about when she usually goes home from Arthur’s in order to make me happy) and to call me when she got home.

About an hour passed (5:00AM) and I still felt funny, so I messaged her, and she didn’t respond. A few minutes later I tried to call, and her phone was turned off. So I flipped out. I didn’t really believe she was at Arthur’s. I drove back to her house and I waited until about 6:20 AM, expecting her to get dropped off by Arthur soon like she was supposed to.

But she didn’t. 6:20 AM hit and I decided to leave.

I kept calling from then on, with a two hour nap inbetween, until 1:00 PM when her phone was turned back on. At this point I was really upset but nothing different from usual. I told her that she should really go home now, so that I can go over and we can talk about this and work through it so it doesn’t happen again. (There I go again, trying to save the relationship.)

She said she didn’t really feel like going home and didn’t plan on it.

I took that as a bit of a slap in the face. I said, alright, fine, then call your mom and tell her I’m going to swing by to drop off some of your things and pick up my ceramic erection.

She said, no, I’d probably call and tell my mom to not let you near the house because you’re a bastard.

Keep in mind that I didn’t provoke her. I didn’t say anything mean or hateful. I did nothing between the time I dropped her off to the time I finally got to talk to her that would deserve such a response.

And so it pissed me off.

I ended up calling her mom and her mom fed me some bullshit line about, “I feel sorry for you but no I wont go into her room and get you your sculpture.”

And then I called Trista and begged and pleaded with her to just go home so we can work things out, blah, blah, blah.

Her response was something along the lines of, “No, I don’t want to, I’m just going to hang out and have fun and do things that I don’t get to do with you whining and bitching at me. I’ll call you when I get home and maybe if I feel like giving your ceramic penis back, you can have it some day.”

And I was furious. But there was nothing I could do.

I tried to sleep on it, but I couldn’t.

About thirty minutes later, Trista calls me in hysterics.

“What the fuck did you do? Where is all my shit? My MySpace is gone, my okcupid is deleted, I can’t get into my email, my livejournal is deleted, I can’t access deviantart. What the fuck did you do?”

I told her I didn’t do anything.

She kept going on. She was actually crying, screaming about how her entire life has been stolen from her, that everything she had was taken away, and I felt kind of bad. But not enough to care all that much.

This went on for a while, with me insisting that I just want my ceramic penis back, and her screaming at me about her deleted accounts. Finally she got a few things back, though MySpace and OKCupid were deleted forever and are irrecoverable.

But she still wouldn’t give me my penis back. I told her she could just leave it on the porch and I could just walk up and get it, no big deal. She refused. She told me that she called her mom and her mom said she’d call the cops on me if I came anywhere near the house, but I knew better than to do something that stupid. This also pissed me off, that her mom would actually go so far as to keep me from my property and my work as to call the cops on me? It’s not like I was threatening anyone.

I did my own cop calling. The East Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department told me that I should drive to her house and park down the street and call them.

So I did.

About 30 minutes later an officer pulls up and talks to me a bit about it. Takes down my info and her info and tells me that I can drive up to the house behind him or I can just wait. I elect to wait a bit down the street because I don’t want to put myself in a position to respond to any accusations.

Someone opens the screen door and the cop talks to someone for a bit. Then he waves me up. I start to walk up and he shouts, “Drive up!” So I get back in my car and drive up.

I get out and he says, “Just walk over and get it, don’t say nothing, then just leave.”

And so I walked up to the porch, picked my ceramic penis up, and walked back to my car, and left.

And that is that.

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I’m waiting for the pain to set in. There is heartbreak and depression lurking somewhere beneath the surface of angry justification, I can feel it building and I am dreading it’s arrival.

I’ll regret this, I know I will, but I also realize there was no other way for me to break free. She wasn’t good to me, she wasn’t true, she didn’t even care to try to work with me on the problems that she caused. I know this. She was a bitch, she was a total cunt to me, I know these things.

But a large part of me still loves her, even now. That part needs to die away or be replaced with someone else. I’d rather if it didn’t get replaced with someone else, because I don’t think I will be ready for a long time to tackle any sort of relationship. I’ve been fucked over and shit on too much now. I’ve been abused far too much.

I need to fix myself, some how. I need to get myself back together, or, I should say, I should assemble myself solidly for the first time ever.

There’s just so much of life that doesn’t seem worth living, so much bullshit that doesn’t seem worth trudging through.

I just don’t know how to cope sometimes. I’ve resorted to shitty forms of coping, and it bothers me.

I need help. I really do.