i had spent most of the night crying.
it started when paul and i had gotten into an argument earlier this evening and had escalated when we were sitting opposite of each other on the couches. i was staring at the edge of the coffee table like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
closed.
you don’t talk to me.
you say more on your website than you do to me.
i’m never leaving you.
your problems.
you only hear what you want to hear.
at one point during all of this i had shoved down my shorts and panties, and pulled up my shirt and screamed “i am a woman” as paul claimed i was “being a woman”. (that got a raised eyebrow out of that little stunt).
and we sat and talked.
the same words reverberated over and over.
closed.
you don’t talk to me.
you say more on your website than you do to me.
i’m never leaving you.
your problems.
you only hear what you want to hear.
over. and over. and over.
i sniffled through the rest of the night though other things were going on. packing for paul’s trip to boston. folding laundry. eating dinner. aimless viewing webpages and talking to various people on aol im.
once we had climbed into bed and finished reading my book, paul climbed in being all snugly and cute. and he was tired. we have to get up at 4:45am to make his flight to boston.
———-
when i was about 7 or 8, i remember helping my mom fold the laundry. we had such a large family, that laundry was a daily chore. down to the basement to the washer. up to the kitchen to the dryer and then onto the dining room to be folded. and i remember one time i had gotten the gumption to defy my mother. i had asked her something. i don’t remember what it was pertaining to, but she looked at me and had said “stop trying to manipulate me. this is the way it is.”
all my life people have, in one form or another said that i have manipulated them. and the way i’ve always seen it was that when someone manipulates someone, it’s a conscious decision. they are thinking about some potential harm or evil they want to do to said manipulator. but i’ve never thought that. my mind is blank, as it was this evening when paul asked me to talk. i don’t feel anything pressing in my head to speak. it’s just blank. i just stared at the table edge and the sole of my feet as it were the most interesting things in the world.
i suppose, there is some truth to the matters at present. and presently i don’t feel anything. it’s like i’m going through the motions of life: i have a wonderful boyfriend, a wonderful job, we live in a beautiful area in an awesome apartment and i don’t feel like it’s special.
i don’t think about things, i just do them. i don’t mind fuck people, i just tell them what i feel. i don’t manipulate people because i have nothing to gain from said manipulation. but if the populous is right, than i must be wrong.