She Journeys

you stumble in my footsteps

DISCLAIMER: This blog entry is selfish and grimly self-indulgent and contains nothing that even closely resembles Christmas spirit.

I was shopping with my brother yesterday, browsing in one of the hat stores (the one by the ice rink), when I happened to hear this song I totally loved but hadn't heard in a couple of years... I'd discovered it on a compilation borrowed from the library and decided it was perfectly suited to be my 'theme song'. I was so thrilled to hear it again, and made sure to get the name of the song, and where I could find it, from the girl working there. She was really cool looking, would totally be my type if I was into girls that way.

But, I'm not into any one any way. I've put a moratorium on feeling anything remotely romantic in nature. I am finished! Maybe not forever, but for awhile. The circumstances of this past week have forced me to confront the parts of myself that I've played at acknowledging, but have never fully faced. I am absolutely incapable of opening myself up to another individual. Absolutely incapable. There is something inside of me that has rotted my ability to pursue any sort of intimate attachment... I don't know what it is, I don't know where it began... but I can't blame my lack of love on the superficial any longer. I am the one with the problem, and boy is it a doozie. God, how did I get so fucked up?

I was floating around in myspace, flipping through profiles, when I came across one that had Depeche Mode playing on it. Naturally, I had to pull out my one DM album and am listening to it as I write. I dig the sound of this band. It's the kind of music playing as you're taking someone against the back wall of a badly-lit neighborhood bar. Yeah... I dig it.

I think tomorrow I'm going to... what? I don't know where I was going with that. Tomorrow I'm going to get up, maybe watch Rupert, eat something, maybe do some Christmas cards, have a shower, get dressed, maybe blow-dry my hair if I care enough to, examine my face in the mirror and wonder if today is the day I recognize the person there. I'm going to walk to the bus stop, catch whichever bus comes first and pray it isn't too busy because it stresses me out when the bus is full and there aren't enough seats. I'm going to go to work and try to be in a good mood, but will end up doing my job without a smile on my face because I don't have it in me, the energy for cheer, not even enough for faux friendliness. I'll feel guilty because it isn't the world's fault that I'm unhappy. And then, I'm going to maybe take the bus home, maybe get a ride with Lisa which I will be ever thankful for because my feet will be killing me, and then I will turn the computer on, change, check my email one more time, and then I will read something, eat something, wonder at the empty echo my insides make when I roll over in bed, and eventually, when my tiredness is weightier than the worries on my mind, go to sleep.

My manager Michael's brother died suddenly yesterday. What right do I have to this grief I feel when there are so many people suffering from agonies a thousand-fold greater than my own? I can't imagine losing my brother... not now, when we've grown so close. And there is nothing I can say to Michael that will ever make things better. "I'm sorry for your loss" means nothing.

I think, tonight, my wish will be for him and his family. For whatever that's worth.

posted by TriptychChick @ 11:51 PM