where the fuck is my victory dance?
my anger has all dissipated. my scaffolding has fallen. i’m just left with a stupid aching feeling and visions of self-harm that, in my imagination, would provide relief to this emotional crap. like going a few rounds in a boxing ring with no protective gear. or choking on my own vomit. or being shot. don’t ask me why, i just tell it like it is.
without my anger, disgust, and frustration, i can’t feel satisfied with my decision. there is no feeling of relief, like i’ve experienced in other break ups. interestingly, this is even almost worse than the acute pain i’ve felt in certain break ups, because in those the pain came from letting things get too far.
in some sense, i didn’t let things get too far so there remains a kind of uncertainty about things. and there is the knowledge that [because things didn’t get too far] the person i’ve hurt is not all bad, not all evil…easy attributions when i do let things go too far. it’s a twisted psyche that finds validation in abuse.
so i’m just left being an asshole. because i knew from the beginning that i would need time to myself, and even though i communicated that, i still let myself get involved. actions speak louder than words.