Pretty Poison

Pretty poison lurks, hidden on my phone, light gleaming through its toxic, yet enticing depths.

It makes me sick to my stomach to think about all the pain I went through because of E…and yet…

There is a subtle allure in the intentness of his purpose.

I’ve forgotten how it feels to be wanted so desperately.

And still, I sit here, crying, knowing that if I were to say even one word, I would unravel all the work I’ve done to repair the damage he caused me.

I can’t go back.

And yet, like an addict…I yearn for that feeling again.

I wish he would just go, leave me alone & not return, so I could stop remembering and missing how he made me feel at one time. Because he also tore me apart, and left me to deal with the afternoon, alone.

Always alone.

I just want this part of the nightmare to end… I’m so tired of being alone.

I discovered tonight that “spam” texts don’t actually disappear…they just get tucked away…but they’re still on the damn phone, daring me to read them.

Daring me to drink that pretty poison, and be damned…

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The Edge of Panic

I’ve been sitting on the edge of a panic attack since this afternoon…

Since I noticed in my missed calls that I have auto-rejected calls from E in my phone again.

I thought I was done hearing from him, that he’d finally gotten the idea that I wasn’t going to talk to him anymore.

What do I have to do?

My phone automatically rejects his calls, shunting them directly to voicemail, which he never leaves, thank the Goddess.

I’ve set my phone to send any texts to spam, which means I never see them, they disappear from my phone, never to be read.

I don’t receive his emails, and he hasn’t sent any, that I know of, because they too, go directly to my spam box.

I thought this was all over with.

And yet, today, I had a missed call while I was driving, so I checked my call log when I got to work, thinking it might be one of my kids, or my parents…

(It was no one I knew, so it wasn’t important)

But, I found 4 auto-rejected calls between Saturday and today.

And tonight, I had another.

After missing a call from my Nephew, I checked my call log again, and there it was.

The same number. The only number on my auto-reject list.

He swore to me once that he would come here, no matter what, to see me, even if I turned him away, he was still going to come, just to meet me & to try to change my mind.

Yes, he knows where I live, I was in a relationship with him for 4&1/2 years, even if it was only long-distance, it was still a relationship.

And the pain, and the panic, these thoughts incite…are very real.

He broke me so badly. I’m still struggling with severe trust issues because of him.

And the edge of panic slices through me like a knife…and I bleed all over again.

A Reason For the Distance

There’s a reason for the distance I put between myself and others.

Why very few get through the barriers I put up, to get into the inner-most circle of trust.

Dear Coworker,

Please don’t tell me about him as though it were no big deal, as though he didn’t rip my heart from my chest and leave it in a million shattered and sharpened pieces, bleeding, on the floor, when he walked away from me without warning.

You were there when it happened, and saw what it did to me. You knew what was going on from the beginning, and that I was wary, but was willing to take one more chance.

Then, he flipped, without warning, and vanished. Again. After asking me for another chance.

You heard me, when I was sarcastic and cutting, but how else was I supposed to sound, with all of the pieces of my heart honed to razor-like sharpness? How else do I protect myself, except through my words and barriers I erect using them?

Please, don’t tell me about how you saw him, unexpectedly, out in public, and were oh, so friendly, with him, instead of asking him why he was an asshole to me (as one of my true friends would, in my humble opinion).

Please, if you want to be friends, or friendly with him, go right ahead.

But don’t bring his name to your mouth around me.

It hurts me.

Are you hurting me on purpose? Or is it just that you want to share gossip, and you think I’m one of those women who like to creep on my exes?

I’m not, and I don’t. When I close a door…it stays closed. Usually gets a lock, some nails, and maybe some barbed wire, for good measure.

There’s a reason for the distance.

And now, there’ll be more distance.

Between you and me, dear coworker.

Whether you notice it or not.

I’ll be quieter.

Less present.

Sooner or later, you’ll look up, and see – I’m no longer there.

Enjoy.

The Little Match Girl

I had a stocking hung up on the wall, waiting for his arrival, hanging empty in anticipation of being added to – waiting to be filled with joy and the presents of the season.

My daughter took it down yesterday, carefully rearranging the hooks on the wall to look as though there was nothing missing, no void, waiting for its fulfillment.

She didn’t want me to have to do it.

Again.

Goddess, I love that girl.

I had thought about removing that stocking…I was trying to avoid it, actually, and hadn’t quite decided what I was going to do. Leave it, and have to explain to everyone why it hangs empty? Or take it down, and get the “looks”? 

Either way, I know my parents will be full of questions, ones I don’t really want to answer just yet, and some I don’t know the answer to just yet.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet, and I really don’t feel like talking about it, out loud, not right now. It hurts, and like an animal with a wound, I’d like to go off into a hidden place, by myself, and bleed quietly, thank you.

What makes it more bitter to swallow is the holidays… lonely enough as is, now?

I’m nothing more than the Little Match Girl…sitting out in the cold, lighting matches (what a metaphor for a dating site, Hunh?),  trying to stay warm for a little while, & seeing hope in the flames. Hope that never blooms into reality and warmth. Each and every time I strike a match, I end up getting burned, but can’t stop from lighting the next as the previous one gutters out. Soon, my heart will give out, tired from the exertion, it will lay down to rest, and freeze, not to get back up again.

Goodnight, dear friends, for a little while.

Until the holiday is over, at least, I don’t think I can be here.