ihavebeenfloated

I knew Trista for a month or two over a year. Ten months of that was our relationship. A month or two was us getting to know each other. The last two months or so was us working apart and that’s not something I’ve really come to grips with, not even now, and I’m not sure why. I guess denial is a powerful thing, and although it could never quite overcome the feeling of need I had for her, it kept us apart and made me act like enough of an ass that it never made her want to come back to shit all over me some more. So that was nice.

All this is pointless.

Typing it is a waste of time, there are no feelings or emotions here to figure out. There’s no story that needs to be told. There’s nothing here that I don’t already know and haven’t accepted that I’ll figure out or accept even if I do. I can’t accept it, that’s the tough part, I probably never will. I’ll just get distracted and move on.

This morning, twenty minutes ago, at six, was a repeat of last week. Except, this time, instead of out right asking me to pick her up from some party she just waited around on the phone with silence hoping that I’d offer.

I made the mistake that I always do, and asked her if she made out with anyone. She told me she made out with everyone. That they played a game with her while she was drunk and just passed her around and had her make out with everyone, and that there were pictures.

My head started spinning. It’s really important to note here that I have never actually experienced this before. Usually before I drift off to sleep my head starts spinning, where you can close your eyes and feel that sensation you get when you’re on the wheel-go-round and hop off and your balance is all fucked and it seems like the inside of your head is sloshing around in circles. I get that, it’s weird, but it’s usually the signal I’m about to fall asleep.

Right then, on the phone, my head started spinning. Even my vision had the same thing. I was laying in bed, perfectly still, my head comfortably in the pillows, and sure enough my vision was completely fucked, as if my eyes were spinning around inside my head. My entire body felt it. I closed my eyes, with the phone still to my ear, and I was sure that if it didn’t die down I’d probably get thrown off of my bed.

“You make me sick,” I said to her.

She didn’t hear me.

“You. Make. Me. Sick,” I said it again, then continued, “I hope you’re proud of yourself, this is what you have become now.”

“I didn’t call you for a lecture.”

“Then what the fuck did you call me for?”

It didn’t go on for much longer than that. She hung up on me. I laid there for a few minutes with my eyes closed trying to get the spinning sensation and the urge to cry to go away and finally it did. I decided to call her back and let her know I’d go and pick her up, in the hopes I could just throw her shit at her and tell her to fuck off, but she wouldn’t answer.

So I left her a voicemail saying that was that. Truth is, after knowing this, I still feel like I need her. After knowing she is whoring herself out drunkenly for everyone’s amusement, I still feel like I need her. But I know I can’t deal with that. I can’t, I can’t do that to myself.

I’m no Henry Miller.

So, yeah, that’s that. Goodbye June.

Edit: I’ve come a long way in two years. It’s a pity that the distance traveled has only been in one direction: down. I miss lusting after women I didn’t even know and probably never could have had. At least, in fantasy, no one really gets hurt. Two years ago I was infatuated with a girl at work who I didn’t really know but always thought about. I thought I was miserable then, but in truth, the fantasy of an idealistic love is no torture compared to the knowledge that idealistic love doesn’t exist.