Bitterness

[greenstorm]

Life has no pity on us. That's what makes it so beautiful, when it is beautiful, and it always is beautiful. There is ruthlessness in the enormous scope of all life, death and pain highlighting the beauty in stark contrast.

I am at Kynnin's house right now.

I think I know why people collect objects when ties with people are so much more important; you can throw objects away, but people throw you away.

I can't tell you what I'm leaving. This is his keyboard. It's curved, ergonomic, I've used it since he got it years ago. I remember typing on it when he went to work, before my own computer was functional. I used to talk to Jan on this keyboard, and roleplay, and it was his, but I never used it to interact with him.

There was a time when we had just moved in together, when I was lying on the bed in the one rented room we shared in a house in Langley, and he was almost asleep. It was late night, and everything focused suddenly, and I thought, one day we'll look back together on this moment and treasure it as something from the beginning, as something from our youth, as a starting-up and a seed of what was to come later.

I suppose it was a seed. He didn't really want me there then, even then I was imposing. I think that I wish I had known, but that would have broken so much of the beauty in between.

He's not there anymore. It's someone else; he looks different, he speaks differently, he thinks and feels differently. I've always been drawn under into my own fantasy worlds; maybe the Kynnin I knew never existed.

I remember once he took me down from school at lunch to his home, and it was Valentine's Day. On the bed he had some presents for me. That was the first year.

I remember once I went to his place where he was staying with his dad, and we went up to his room and he showed me music on the computer, mp3s, it was the first time I'd seen anything like it. Was that the third year?

I remember the nights he spent in my bedroom, in the home I grew up in, us two together downstairs with no one else there and I've never felt so safe or so centered or so loved in my life. I never have, before or since. Those times were the most precious in the world.

Now my computer isn't in the apartment anymore. I came here to pick up the vacuum to go to work, he had said the night before when I asked if it was okay that he wouldn't be here. Then, here he was.

It really is over. Oh, Gods, it really is over.

He left. He had some stuff to do, and he left, and before he left he asked me if something was wrong. What do you say to that? And to who he is now, a stranger uncomfortable with me, trying to walk a line between a sense of burden and obligation and some sort of courtesy? What do you say?

I've never been hurt like this. I mean, I never have since the beginning. I guess this is starting at the beginning again, somehow, a beginnning covered with a shellac of memories. Look, here's another, found amongst the papers that pile beside his computer desk. It's a paper with a note on it -- we talked a lot on notes, at the end -- and it says, "I love you. I'm not mad, just surprised, and we can sort this out." It's in his handwriting, he wrote that to me once, not even that long ago.

I don't know what's happening here. Last night, even this morning, for the last few months, for the last few years I thought I'd been built into a strong person. I thought that things could hurt me, sure, could be uncomfortable... but this is that place beyond that. This is the place where I'm in pain, where it's the only thing that matters. I can't do anything, right now. I can't breathe very well, I can't even cry, just make this thin sound that comes out of me and goes on forever but that no one a few feet away could hear.

I've cared about my life for a long time now, cherished it, fingered through the precious moments and the less precious moments until they glowed with the polish of much use. I've held it up, juggling the bits, picking them up again when I drop them. Now, perhaps for just a little while, I've left it hanging, free to fall and get caught on whatever it needs. I can't reach for anything right now. I can't try for anything right now. Not just yet.

I hadn't realised it would hit me like this. Weeks, months, they went by and all this was a known quantity. Everyone said, you're taking the breakup well. Everyone said, you have such a good perspective on that. Everyone said, it must be hard to prolong it like that.

It just hadn't happened yet, that's all. Now it's happened, and I'm not taking it well, and I don't have good perspective, and it was easier being with him even how it was until this weekend, and I feel bereft and I am in pain.

This is not pretty. This is not romantic and special, it's not sad and tragic, it's not good or wonderful in any way. My sinuses hurt badly from crying, my eyes are swollen, and I do not know what to do next. If I stop writing I have to decide what to do next, and I can't do that, so I keep writing.

I didn't realise how much it would hurt to lose his family. His mom was wonderful to me in so many ways for so long, and she is a wise person. Now she will be wonderful to someone else.

I didn't realise... I've said that a lot. There's something else I said, the other day. I hate the future. I hate change. I hate not realising. If something just happens long enough I'll get used to it, but then something comes up and I need to start over again. I've never had enough time to learn to be happy, when I'm happy. I've never had enough time to learn to deal with it, when I'm unhappy. I come through the other side a victim of the experiences, tossed by them and bruised and having gone through with my eyes half shut and without ever having embraced them.

I feel so miserable. I'm going to, on and off, for awhile. I guess this is half-warning; if you don't like it, don't talk to me and don't read this livejournal or this post. It's half-request; call me sometimes, smile at me and give me hugs, it will help. Most of all, though, it's defiance. I deserve to feel my misery for a little bit, after seven and a half years (the anniversary is in February, oh, that will hurt). I'm going to feel it, and that's okay with me. I wholly embrace your right to be part or not be part of it as you see fit, but I'm not going to listen to anyone who tells me there's something wrong with feeling this way.

Oh, well. I guess that's it for now. Take care.

Comments

[http://users.livejournal.com/_locke/]

I know it hurts. I know the feeling of something being a part of your life for so long you feel lost when it is missing. Be sad. Let yourself cry. It gets better.

*hugs*

[greenstorm.livejournal.com]

Thank you.

Love

[http://users.livejournal.com/_greenwitch_/]

Your writing is beautiful, even if you're expressing your loss.

There are times in life where sadness and loss burn harshly and temper you. Hopefully the experience strengthens and helps you to grow, to determine what you truly need. It's rare to escape unchanged, and the lessons learned seem small in return for the pain. I've experienced a great deal of sorrow through the years, rocked myself crying and keening in the dark, and struggled to pick up the pieces. I've tossed memories and mementos into the trash in an attempt to purge reminders of what was and what I thought should be. I've been shaken by the sense of loss days/weeks/months after a life-changing event, and been surprised at how fresh the memories are, how visible the wounds. You need to grieve. You are allowed to grieve.

Through that, there will be sunshine, and laughter and friends. New experiences. You are allowed to live. When you come up for a breath, take the time to learn how to be happy.

Hugs

Re: Love

[greenstorm.livejournal.com]

I came home and I have a baby! But I haven't seen it in the sunlight yet...

Thank you for being there, and for being so very considerate and authentic. We'll have to go nursery-hopping again soon -- and look, I live close to your work for it.

[silverseastar.livejournal.com]

I've known pain so harsh that life didn't feel like living. Allow yourself the darkness that brings, but also remember there will be a time when it's important to move towards light and accept the love and help of others.

*huge understanding hugs*

You are a beautiful writer.

[greenstorm.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I only write sad things well. :(

[lazarus7.livejournal.com]

*hug*

I understand exactly how you feel.

It is not a fun place but you need not be there forever.

*hug*

[greenstorm.livejournal.com]

I'm sure you do. :(

I'm sure I won't be. I need to be here while I am, though, I have always been so good at hiding. The two hours a day helps me to focus, both on the good and the bad.

Are you keeping busy up there?

[lazarus7.livejournal.com]

keeping to busy sometimes!

*smile*

Keeping myself busy is good ... keeps you from getting to wrapped up in the negative emotions. If things are going on, you are having fun, and occupied, there is not as much time to sit around and feel sad for yourself. It doesn't do me any good to pout and feel bad for myself. Solves nothing.

[bioentropy.livejournal.com]

It is the darkness that makes light remarkable. Grief is needed to put the happiest times in perspective.

Sucks to go through though. I feel for you.

*hugs*

[greenstorm.livejournal.com]

Thank you.

[wik.livejournal.com]

I really wish I could be there for you, Erin. But I'm not quite as eloquent as some of your other friends, and text is a really crappy way of getting out an emotion.

[greenstorm.livejournal.com]

I've known you for more than twice as long as anyone else who answered. That means something to me, even if it's just long because it's attenuated.

It's easier for me to trust that you'll be there in a couple more years too, you know?

[khamura.livejournal.com]

It's sad to see it go like that, even from my perspective here. And that's just the thing, isn't it? It /is/ sad. There's little point in denying it and forcing yourself to be strong. Life does and will go on, but there has to be a time for mourning first. That length of time is different for everyone, I suppose, six months for me, more for some I'm sure, less for others. You have every right to feel the way you do about all of it; I'll be the last to tell you otherwise.

Just remember that there's a time to come after the mourning. Don't let the shore get out of your sight while you're at sea. But you knew that already. :) *hug*