=\

I'm tearing myself apart.


This is all I've ever known. It's how I was born and how I'll be.

The good times were just a dream.

Sardines

12 posts... 6... 1... March, April, May. I managed to update this one time last month! Determined to do this more often. This first one is a half cheat copied from some other post, but it counts.

More of the same house woes of course...

I'm moving at the end of August. I'm only renting but it was still 'our' place. I took pictures of the house for memories before starting to pack, but even then I was sad at the minor changes that have occurred over the past 11 months without him. I was sad at the ones that happened during his cancer, but at least he was still here.

So, we were thinking of buy this house. Packing up our former life... it is indescribable to people who don't get it. They don't realize all the little things I come across. All at once, it all crashes down.

Last August we were supposed to be having our wedding reception in the back yard. Instead, the empty house awaited my return from burying him across the world. One year later and it will be all gone.

It saddens me too, as I know I will be stepping backwards in luxury. Ok so it's just some 80s house with a weird leak in the ductwork when it storms, but it's the nicest place I've ever lived in. It was a family home. We had a real yard. Room for More that can now never be. Where there once was some joy and excitement in moving onwards and upwards, to offset the ugly practicalities of it... there is now none. I looked. They all suck. I know I will hate the dirty walls of whatever hole I move into. I know there will be no room for growing happiness, just faded hopes and dreams packed into a sardine can... and it'll be like this for Years until I get my act together, figure out who I am, if ever.

Packing up sucks. It's just another smack on the head by the grief monster.

Dragging large mattresses and bed frames around also sucks. I already have a bad back and it was hard enough sliding these things Down the stairs. I looked into selling them, but it was another reminder of how alone I am. Number one tip seems to be don't let strangers from Craigslist into your basement, and don't meet them alone.

Selling multiple beds/bedroom furniture from guest room that will never be occupied because I have no friends. In decent condition. Meet me at the Starbucks. I'll be in the Southwest corner with the double beds, red shirt.

I walk through walls.

Wow I didn't know that anybody read this. I'm not feeling much today, just tired from it all. Felt like I should update this, as it's yet another failed thing that I've let slide. Can't stick with anything now. But I don't even know what to say. Just missing my P. Grey, gloomy cold day. Trying not to feel too much.

Had a briefly good, then bad night a few days ago courtesy of some vodka mixer. The week before that I was actually not bad... waking up early and the weather was nice. I bought plants for some reason to put on the deck, and ate breakfast outside and did some yard work which I like. Then it got cold, rainy, I started waking up late again, and a lot of the plants died. Guess that good week was a silly fantasy world anyway.

I have to make the decision to leave our house and let my landlord know. Tonight. The thought sickens me, but I haven't found any bags of money buried in the yard so I know what I have to do. I hate the thought of leaving 'our' house. It's the only thing that comforts me. I can zone out on our couch during a tv show and forget things for a while. I'm grateful for that even, because it's progress from where I was at a month or two out where I couldn't even go a few seconds without thinking of the pain. I know he's not coming back and we'll never get to build our life together in this house like we planned, but moving into some hole in a cheaper city isn't something I'm looking forward to.

I don't want to change my cable/phone/internet because it won't be under his name anymore. I don't want to have to pack up his shoes from the front hall closet. It would be weird to put them back out in a new place. I don't want to lose the smell in the bedroom. Sometimes it smells like him. Rarely, but sometimes. Moving means it never will. None of this is logical or really should matter, but it does.

I'd rather not think about anything at all and just sleep the year away... which I almost have. It was 10 months yesterday. I ate the other half of the meal I froze on Valentine's Day. I'm not eating enough again.

>Insert Radiohead Lyrics<

That there
That's not me
I go
Where I please
I walk through walls
I float down the Liffey
I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here
I'm not here

In a little while
I'll be gone
The moment's already passed
Yeah it's gone
And I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here
I'm not here

Pebbles

P was my rock, no my Earth, my entire existence rotated around him. He was my everything. If something happened he was There. He actually Cared. What is there now? Some people care, but it's not the same. They don't care about everything like he did. They only care about little parts of me, and with different tolerances for the convenience of caring.

I hate trying to fill the void now. Spreading it all out among the pebbles in my life. Some are a little bigger, maybe like a backhoe-only movable garden stone for family and really close friends. But even then, they can roll away, they're not my existence and I'm definitely not theirs. They don't text funny stories because the second they hear a funny story they think of telling me. They don't help cook my dinner because they know it would make Me happy. ME!

I can't believe P cared about little old me, but he did. It makes me cry to think that someone so amazing could give a rip about me. Now I'm this sad and pathetic thing. Most of my friends are virtual. I even started going on random chats to add people to my instant messengers, just to feel like someone cared. To add more pebbles.

There's a guy I added, he got a little too attached, but I loved it. Didn't even like him that much, was a total settle 'good enough' thing. How fucking terrible. But I just miss P actually caring, so I guess some fake caring from a fake person who didn't even really know the real me was the best I can get now. Some shitty 'r u there?' IM waiting when I get home, or maybe I can even check it from my cell phone, as if people really know or care the rare times I'm out and about. P would have. That guy turned out to be a turd instead of a pebble anyway. Makes me sick to think of how special P was and how hurtful, mean and mediocre at best everyone else is.

The other night at home, I slipped and fell. Messed up my knee, it hurt so bad. Nobody was there and nobody cared. Nobody knew how excruciating the pain was, and nobody heard me scream the f word at the top of my lungs and sob because P wasn't in his room. He wasn't rushing out to check on me, with a waft of warm air and his sweet special smell. I loved that sleepy smell he had. I just lied on the floor shaking with the phone in my hand in case I started to pass out. I wanted to call 911 so somebody would know I died and feed my (our) little cat.

I'm too chicken to kill myself, what if I got it wrong and there is some kind of afterlife and somehow I don't get to be with P if I purposely kill myself? If there was an accident though.. and it was nice and quick... all I can say now is "oh well". How absolutely terrible it is, that life, which should be my most precious thing ever has been reduced to 'oh well'. The most precious thing I had was him.

It's all gone now because of cancer.

Fucking pity party

Right now, I hate myself. I hate who I am, who I'm becoming, and what I'm not.
I also hate my life. I LOVE what it was, hate what it is, and hate what it's not.

I feel like such a loser. I started a night class tonight, and we had to do the dreaded introductions. I hate explaining myself to people. I hate that I have no response to their questions. My name, what do I during the day, where I'm from. I can't even answer all that. What do I say? I'm an unemployed loser wasting money on a night class so I can feel human. I'm widowed and 29. Yes that is too young to be widowed. Yes that is too old to start life all over again. Yes I'm wasting my degrees and I do nothing during the day.

This isn't even what's really bugging me. Or is it? I don't know who I even am anymore. I just want P back so the shotgun blast that cancer tore through my life could be stuffed back up with love and purpose in the proper way.

You know, I haven't posted since the 9th because I got drunker than ever before that night. I haven't had any since, but it was a new low. I dumped all my thoughts out on someone and let them see me at my worst, which scares me to death.

I tried mending my wound with other things, it didn't work. I destroyed them and ripped it right open. I fucking hate all this.

Happy Anniversary

...or something.

Last year minus a week:
P snuck out of the house, blind from his cancer, with his little walker. He sat by the bus stop determined to get to the mall to buy me a wedding ring. A neighbour he met on a walk, who was a cancer survivor herself happened to pass by him. She offered him a lift to the mall and helped him pick out a ring for me. A week later (April 9) he proposed to me in our favourite restaurant.

I can't even write the story properly, I'm a mess.

I bought his favourite food, from the Royal Shawarma. We used to go in there all the time and it would be a great night. The smell killed me on the way home, it just smells like good times. When I got home there was two forks in the bag and I cried. I wish he was here to eat it with me.

There's only about 1 shot left of his favourite, Jim Beam. I think I'm going to have half now, and split the rest into whatever other days I'll be celebrating him. The mickey of rum will fill in the rest. I'm going to go rot on the couch and watch our favourite shows and just wallow in shittiness with his food. Fuck life.

9 days

It's April 9, Saturday will be 9 months.

I don't remember much of April. I seriously wasted it away on the internet watching cartoons, junk on You Tube, reading comics, chatting, totally BS-ing the time away. I think I've listened to The Ballad of the Beard for an hour of my life. Add another hour for Comb Your Beard (at Night).

I didn't look for a job, I didn't clean the house, I didn't clean out the cat's box every day. I didn't compost the banana that fell on the floor. I didn't eat 3 meals a day or even 2. I bought milk and it's currently rotting. I am too lazy to even watch LOST. I ruined my sleep again so that I'm waking in the evenings.

My accomplishments: I coloured some eggs. I ate them even after they turned rubbery. I made an internet friend. I broke my camera lens and then bought a new one. I did my laundry once and I finally cleaned up the pan in the sink that I made pizza in about a week ago. I got a haircut (my last one was 11 months ago for our wedding which didn't happen.) I returned a hoard of empties.

Fulfilling life.

Switch to the other dimension where I am married. In it P is cancer-free, we visited Australia and possibly Italy. We have full time jobs and are buying the house I'm currently renting. We play games together online and simply enjoy each other's company. We have some separate hobbies and I love watching him come home and tell me how his squash game went. We cuddle on the couch and fall asleep talking about good times from the past while planning more for the future.

I wish I could rip a hole into that dimension and climb through. In this one even I don't exist anymore. I feel like I appeared in this body a month ago and am totally faking being human.

Easter

So I had Easter with the family. P really should have been there. It's so wrong without him. My cousin had his woman there, they looked really happy together. I could tell they had the sort of inside jokes going that me and P had. I'm happy for him because he's older now and probably would have made a good dad, but things never worked out. It still made me sad though. Nobody asked how I was except my aunt. I love her for it.

I've been thinking a lot the past few days, I think I really should move. It scares the hell out of me, but really my life in this city is shattered and I don't know anybody here. I might as well move back near the few people I do know. I keep going there anyway to go hiking. Thinking about it is one thing, it took me so many months before I could even entertain the idea. Actually moving is another. What if it's a terrible idea? I have a million doubts. Sometimes his room smells like him for no reason, the new one won't. The place will probably be crappier and If I leave I can never come back. I feel like I left that life already though, even though I'm still here. I'm not even me. I have no idea how I'll feel about it in August when I'd have to move, I'm so all over the place. Hate this.

I'm still feeling this spring high. I got my hair cut today and I always feel so great after that. It was nice out too. I hope I don't make a bad decision about moving just because I'm in this mood to be out and about and running around now.