Sunday, January 20, 2008

By Sunday Night

I am so fucking bored of myself. I'm bored with the tattered reels of stories looped in my head. I'm bored of being sad. I am sick to fucking death of crying in savasana.

How am I going to handle it if something *actually* bad happens to me. So one person that I knew for less than a year doesn't love me. In the grand scheme of things - fuck me, even in the grand scheme of love - this is not the most horrible thing that has happened to a person. That has happened to me, even. There was no betrayal, not even any real unkindness. Just, not love.

If I went for the rest of my entire fucking life without going into another fugue of wordless grief in the grocery store, I'd be one happy fucking duck.

Enough already. That's. Enough.


XUP said...

This is good. I think "bored" is the penultimate stage of break-up grief, isn't it??

Ariel said...

Do you think we could break the boredom by wearing fabulous outfits and impractical shoes on Saturday night?

Asteroidea Press said...

Cleavage and high heels have been known to cure much worse than heartache!

And XUP: God, I hope so.

Anonymous said...

reading your blog is like reading my own break up diary. I too m bored to death of sob uncontrolably during savasana, an am trying to limit my weepeing to yoga and running sessions... it's not working out as well as I might hope, but, after 7 weeks of crying every day, I'm not sure my body remembers waht it was like to NOT cry everyday.
Thanks for giving me an achor point!

Asteroidea Press said...

If I said "My pleasure!" I think I'd be missing the mark somehow. But I'm glad you're finding something here.