If I had written this an hour ago it would likely have been pretty upbeat. I went to see The Therapist today, went pretty well. Feeling pretty good and we agreed that I didn't have to go everyweek. So we decided that we would leave it 3 weeks until the next appointment. Spoke about alternative things to do, rather than spending my life in the pub. Spanish lessons are definitely high on the priority list, but she also recommended a Creative Writing class or something. All sounds a bit gay to me, but fuckit I thought... Why not? Do something different perhaps, meet new people. Yea...fuckit, I think I will do it thought I! It was all going pretty swimmingly if I do say so. I left, drove back to work... Singing away to myself. Everything was great.
Got to work, in all honesty pissed around a wee bit. Struggling to sit down for 5 minutes as my leg was fuckin' killing me... But got going and started getting some work done. Everything was fine.
Then I started thinking about some stuff I'd ordered that hadn't arrived yet. Hmmm... been quite a while since I ordered so thought I should check out what was going on. And prepared myself to start shouting at someone. I'm good at that shit... Arguing, shouting...all that kinda shit...
Found out eventually that the stuff had actually been delivered to an address that I'd used before, and not my current address. The address being the workplace of my ex. My heart fuckin' sunk. I knew that meant I would have to deal with talking to her, either by phone or email, maybe even carrier pidgeon. But regardless of the method of communication, it had to be done. I decided to bite the bullet and call her, I still remembered her mobile number despite having deleted it from my phone.
Fuck... Fuck... Fuck Fuck Fuck By Fuck.... Why did this have to happen? I was doing ok?!!
So.... I called her, it was cold as fuck. Turned out she's already returned the stuff. So fair play to her for that. I think I've mentioned before, that I don't hate her at all. But she obviously fuckin *hates* me. That gets to me a bit. I came off the phone and sat for a while trying not to burst into tears at my desk. I started writing her an email along the lines of: "I'm sorry you think I'm a cunt, I didn't mean or want to hurt you. I want you to be ok and happy and I hope you are. I don't want you to think the time with me was shite, cos it wasn't. We had some fuckin' great times together."
Or words to that effect.
Then I couldn't help but blub like a fuckin' kid. Started as I was finishing the email, hit the send button then had to disappear to the toilet to let the steady stream of tears begin.
Why was I crying though? That's the question... I'm not crying because I want her back. I don't even think I'm crying for me. I think I'm crying because I'm sad that I've hurt her. That because of me, someone else feels shite. I feel bad that she had to deal with me the way I was before we broke up. That she had to deal with me while we were together. In all honesty, I did want to contact her around this time. Because of the whole abortion business, but fuckin' hell... This all seems very elaborate.
I guess that's just something else that I wish I could go back and do differently so that no one had to suffer.
That list is getting too fuckin' long though...
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