A 6 year relationship has officially ended. For real, my fault, my loss.
The physical movements needed to pack up my things have multi-layered emotional repercussions.
For instance, thank you Ikea, for making things so ready to assemble and dissemble, for instance, that snap-metal pin that holds both our racked drawers together can now be so easily snapped and split into two units. *SNAP*
The taking down of photographs and notes from our Wall of Fame, these needle-pricks of reminders of how happy we were...why wasn't there any sustenance?
The mental fatigue of picking apart ‘My’ things, ‘Your’ things and then the painful decision of the ‘Our’ things greets me at every corner.
------------------------------------------------------------
Imbued by the visual magnitude of things, I had to get out for a breather. Oh yes, back to the ol’ Bridget & Jones.
Now, smearing my chicken nuggets with copious amounts of BBQ sauce, heavily salted fries and a glass of wine. Classy, I know.
Oh, smirk... smirk if you like. This is the downward spiral you secretly wish I'd go down, just for what I've done to our relationship, our 'family' as you put it. It's okay, I deserve all of this, really.
Is this free-fall worth it? Am I doomed to lifetime of regret and bitterness?
Shall I be cliché and put on All By Myself.... OH YES. Bring on the tears...
Going out of the house because I just realised I left my large Sprite in the car, and now, gee whiz, I have a wine cooler, but what hit me the most, was not seeing Tinkerbell lying down, or wagging her tail, smiling at me, and jumping up when I walk past.
Sitting at the porch door upstairs, trying to clear my head, I realise the brand new sofa, where is it going to go? I'd be bundling up the rugs on the floor back to Penang too. As well as the pegs on the hangers and my CDs and DVDs that I've amassed over the years.
What else? What else should I take? What should I leave?
I sometimes wish, I wasn't leaving.
No comments:
Post a Comment