100 Miles Away

Today I drove/waded up north 100 miles to the city that never sweeps. Gross. But that's where all the stuff happens. So that's where you have to go. Even in the pouring rain. Leaving everything behind. Or so I thought. I thought he might call. I thought he might miss me. I thought he might at least be wondering about me. I thought wrong. Again.

I fought off the urge to call him all morning and half of the afternoon and some of the night. And then I figured out it didn't matter at all. Because he has replaced me with someone else who will always be able to entertain him with her self-absorbed bitching and her svelte figure writhing under funkadelic outfits that I could never dream up.

Oddly enough, I'm not angry. Irritated. Hurt. Not angry. They can have each other if I am always going to have to play second fiddle to her. I am tired of the lines and trying to pretend that those glib comments don't hurt. It's exhausting work, and I am giving up. I lost.

I think if he called right now I might actually have the wherewithall to tell him to not talk to me anymore. To leave me in peace. Or at least leave me to try and find it, since I haven't been able to find it in my forever broken heart. To call me when he wants to ask me for a date. When he's actually interested in hanging out with me. When I can ask him to do things without the near certainty that he'll make up some excuse as to why it is impossible. "In for the evening" is an excuse he reserves for me and his couple friends that are currently on the verge of breaking up. I don't want to hear these confessions when he forgets he said the same thing to me two days earlier. I am tired of feeling like a problem.

So the solution is possibly this: to go 100 miles away every day. Even if I can only do it in my head. In a week I'll be a million miles away anyway. Praying that I'll actually be able to leave him behind once and for all. Of course he won't like it, but after all, it's what he wanted in the first place.