it's a violent shift.
putting coffee and ever on paper. or on the interwebs.
one is someone i don't even know anymore. yet it's all love and emotion and vulnerability and butterflies.
the other is someone i didn't see this side of before who makes me question my judgment and logic. and now that went from love and friendship to hate and spite and bitterness.
once, we had this fight. it was a bad one.
it was before he was medicated. when he was still breaking things.
he got pissed off (i wish i could remember why), and threw a tape dispenser on the ground. a nice one that was filled with sand. it cracked the base.
and then he spit. on the floor. in the apartment. on the living room floor.
he was so mad that he spit.
i'd never seen someone do that before. it was like an involuntary reaction.
and i was so blown away by his temper tantrum that i stooped to his level. i dumped the sand all over him on his side of the bed. while saying something like, 'oh? because it's ultra productive to break shit we can't afford to replace when we're angry.' and then dumped the sand. and then said, 'i feel soooo much better now that i broke things and pitched a temper tantrum!' sarcastically.
this was way back in the old apartment. maybe four years ago? i'm remembering everything except the reason why.
but i'm so angry right now, so bitter, that i want to spit.
just call me manic tea.
because i'm awake. i'm writing multiple posts in a day. i am literally furious, then crying and then laughing hysterically, back to tearing up again. apparently it takes one and a half days to recover from a fucked up 50 or 60 hour workweek. and if i didn't have off tomorrow (technically today), i'd be right back to it.
i can't keep my days straight. or my dates. i'm having the hardest time with countdowns.
it's so strange to me. all week i wait for the weekend. and then it gets here, and i wish it away so i can go home sooner.
to escape.
immediately though, now, the countdown is to the camping trip.
then to thao and mirah.
then home.
you know, speaking of home... i haven't told my parents about the roommates yet. i can't even tell them about today. they will flip the fuck out on me. my mom told me, as soon as i told her i had gotten an apartment, to move back in.
they saw this coming. i told them, 'he's not like that. he is not going to do that.'
but apparently, he is. and he did.
i did some reading today.
do you know that if i go back to the house, say i've had a change of heart and that i'm moving back in, if he doesn't let me, i can get him for abandonment?
isn't that amazing?
that's the law. in our state, anyway. if the judge thought i meant it, i could completely switch roles on him. i could force him to leave.
there's also this other type of abandonment. where i can say that while i still lived there, he abandoned me. which is how i have been feeling.
something about withholding sex and having substance abuse issues and not doing his half of the marital work, for lack of a better word. as in, chores.
isn't that outrageous?
he was choosing weed over sex with me. and i could sue his ass for that. amazing. what would we do without this legal system??
that's what i learned tonight. that, and the vast number of mediators who want to help divorcing couples.
somehow, i want more beer. i want more comfort food. i want to go out. i missed out, too. tonight was supposed to be a super fun dance party. i literally just thought of it right now. i was thinking it was saturday all day because i knew i didn't have to work tomorrow.
and i fucked it up. ah, well.
maybe next weekend.
it's not even beer that i want. honestly, i just want to be drunk. and forget all of this until tomorrow. i want to go to sleep giddy and happy and tired and sleepy.
not lay here thinking about all of my real life problems.
the fake ones are so much more fun. the fluttery heart future scenario ones. that make me smile. not this bullshit that makes my heart pound out of anger.
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