Being Right About Being Left

So we're talking today and he makes a comment about my anger and how misdirected it is and how uncool that is. And I wanted to scream. Because in reality, anger is like an H-bomb, it just hits everybody in its way. But I also think, you bet, I'm really fucking angry. And there's nothing I can do about it.

I think about our dinner and getting drunk and arguing despite my efforts to keep the conversation as banal as possible so no one would get hurt. But eventually, it went there, and anger said 'hello'. As much as it can in a pretentiously trendy and crowded restaurant. But I really just want to yell and scream until I am hoarse about all the things I am angry about, even though they are often unconnected to each other, so they don't make sense until you are living inside my skin. And he doesn't really have much patience for anger, so I try to keep a tight lid on it because if I really unleashed it, he would never speak to me again. I would finally be the psycho ex whatever I was.

And after dinner, we took a little triip down his memory lane, which was painful, but no more than expected. I guess the thing that burned me the most was how happy he looked in all the pictures. In both the pictures I have of us, he has this smirk that looks more like pain than anything else. And as he's going through this entire roll of pictures, it occurs to me that he probably doesn't have a single picture of me. All I have to do is walk through the front door to see who really mattered. I am nowhere to be found. Which is why I try not to look( just close your eyes and try to remember where the step is). I'm not even in a shoebox in the back of some closet with dust all over it. Damn right I'm angry. And hurt. Jilted. Deceived. Jealous. All that bad stuff.

But in the end, there's still nothing I can do about it, so I hang up the phone and then lay in The Middle and sob for about half an hour because I was right from the very beginning, and so far I haven't been wrong in my predictions, and yes, I'm really fucking pissed about it. And I'm terrified that all of my predictions will be true because I'm really not sure if I can live through all of them. Or if I should even try. Because I don't know if I would even come out a better person on the other side. Is there even an other side? For once, I wish I could be wrong. Completely, totally, unmistakably wrong.