Packing and Unpacking

Moving hasn't been all fun and games. So far I've done everything myself. The packing, the moving, the unpacking, the washing, the organizing, the heavy lifting. But packing has entailed a certain amount of unpacking of the things I put away and forgot about a long time ago. And now, here they are, back to bite me in the face. Concert ticket stubs, condoms from the clinic, vacation haikus, photographs. All things that stem from times that I thought someone cared about me. And as I remember and read, the words look so sincere on the page, but ended up being completely empty and meaningless.

He hasn't called me today. And I keept reminding myself that he is with her and doesn't have time for me anymore. I'm not special enough. and somehow he says that he has been in love with her for seven years, including the time that he was with two other women plus me and she was with someone she was going to marry until he interfered. And it's not fair that I got stuck in his crap and that he never let me know how unimportant I was in the grand scheme of things. I wish he would have let me know that he never thought of me as a long term project because I have no future.

I can't seem to fully express how much I'm hurting, but I have a compulsive need to expunge everything out of me until it's gone. Like throwing it all up so my stomach wont hurt anymore. Unpacking my heart, I guess.