How are you supposed to deal with something when you really don’t want to? Is that some other aspect of grief that has to be tackled individually? Every time I think I got past the goodbye, I come home disappointed that she isn’t there. She still has my key, after all. And I have hers, but pigs will fly before I go over there for anything but picking up the shit of mine that’s still there.
I got a message from her the other day. Asking me if I’m alright and that she is sorry that she didn’t see my capoeira gig (which got fucking cancelled anyway). When I replied that I’m a wreck and I don’t know what to do with myself anymore, she basically said she was sorry, that she knew it was her fault.
That’s nice. But it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. It didn’t include any "I miss you," "I want you back," "Let’s talk things over." I would have refused anyway, though. I think. I hope. Not fucking likely.
Some things remind me of her mroe than others, and for some reason this small festival that I am volunteering at, is tearing me apart. Get distracted to keep her out of my mind, and there she is. She didn’t show up, just like last year. She was out of the country then, which left me quite disappointed because I got to play a regular hero back then and she wasn’t around to see it. Eh, maybe next year, right? Fuck you.
So maybe that’s it, the fact that she doesn’t get to see me at my best. Doesn’t matter much this year anyhow. While I was able to save the day with my know-how and tools last year, shit is better prepared now. They got a whole team doing light and sound instead of just one guy, and they’re anticipating problems now. They cut down on the bar so it’s much smaller now, and I can’t make myself useful there, either. Nothing for me to do but to hang around and watch couples dance.
Get me out of this place. I’m running out of places to run to. I had to break down Pukkelpop festival last week, and we arrived while Sigur Ros was playing. Just like they did at Werchter, while she and I were fighting because I had had too little sleep to be in any kind of a good mood and well, she was fucking some other guy, telling me I had nothing to worry about. I’m sure there was some emotional factor for her involved somewhere that made her cry spontaneously when we were watching, but right now, I just don’t give a shit anymore. That’s how it is: She and him. Not me, I was alone, writhing in my own skin, swearing at colleagues, desperately trying to figure out what to do. So fuck her. Two hours of doing nothing I had to endure at Pukkelpop, while hearing them play and knowing that she was in the crowd on the other side of the fence, doing god-knows-what with god-knows-who to comfort her, and colleagues all around me who were undoubtebly going to ask questions if I started kicking things, which really was all I felt like at that moment. And I hate questions. They only shove me further into self pity, guided by good intentions and genuine care.
It took longer than it did the first time, but it’s getting to me. Naively hoping that today’s tears will be the last. It’s slowly turning into a long-term thing, a constant greying of the town around me, which I don’t know how to escape from. Distraction is a temporary solution. Speaking of which, I just might start drinking, they do still tell me that I "have to learn". What else can I do? Last time I was saved by someone else, I cannot even begin to describe what I owe her. And all she did was pick me up.
Stupid thing is, I can’t remember how she did that.