Thursday, June 24, 2010

Finding Forty, Day 29: FYI

I feel weird today, although really, it's not much unlike any other day for me emotionally.

I'm alone. The kids are with their grandmother, A is at work, and I've had the house all to myself. As far as days go, it's been a good one. Went and swam laps, showered, treated myself to a pedicure, manicure and even an eyebrow wax, killed over an hour in the bookstore and am now home, still alone.

I should be content. Days like this are few and far between.

But my mind keeps jumping between A and S and well, me. I'm angry with both of them. I'm mad that A wants me (or did) but can't figure out how to give me what I need and I'm pissed that S doesn't want me (he used to) but knows intuitively how to make me feel alive and happy.

Both of them want me to stop thinking about S, as if I can just flip a switch and in an instant, all thoughts and memories of him are gone. I'm not a machine, I'm human, with feelings and a heart and a mind and a body that still yearns.

I can't know what I've known and just let it go because of S's last email to me.

Sadly, I still check my inbox, just in case he writes me in a moment of weakness, but all I'm greeted with is the email. THE email.

FYI, is what it's entitled. FYI. For Your Information. For your information, I will tell you I love you for over a year, look at you like I've never looked at anyone in my entire life, feel things I've never known before, laugh until my belly aches and I can't breathe, but, FYI, you must stop thinking of me now, today, in this instant,forever, we are done. FYI.

Well, S. FYI from me. I can't. Not today, probably not this month, or perhaps even this year. In time I will, trust me. But it doesn't happen the way you want, when you want, how you fucking want. What a cold hearted asshole you are to even expect me to.

Cold hearted. I never pegged you for that. I could pin a lot of unsavory characteristics on you, most of which I happened to find endearing, but cold hearted was never you. Until now.

You were my best friend. You were my everything, sad as that is to admit. You were home. I wanted to move in and get to know every inch of you, every quirk, every goofy trait.

In my darkest hour, I stupidly believed I'd have you to turn to, to understand me, to help me through. For always.

Didn't you say things like that? Didn't you say in an email to me last summer...

June 8, 2009, 10:12 p.m.
Baby, I'm here, and I'm staying for as long as you'll have me, I love you. I've been in a bad mood all day, and I know that it is because I didn't get to speak to you nearly enough. That said, I can't ever speak to you, hold you or kiss you enough. You are incredibly amazing and you make me so happy.

Stay with me,

I did stay with you and boy, don't I look the fool?

So, for your information can go fuck itself. Here is how I see it.

FYI...Fuck your instincts, fuck your insight, fuck your influence, fuck your importance, fuck your impact.

I don't like being angry, but I am.


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