PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

dissmissive two

Tuesday, Jan. 04, 2005

I used to call him after he should have been home. He wouldn’t answer me. I used to leave dozens of messages on his voicemail. The first message would be left after 10 rings, by 2 a.m. they went straight to voicemail….and they were indecipherable through my sobs and tears . Near 3 a.m. I’d talk myself into hating him over and over again. And then somewhere near 4 a.m. I’d come to my senses or maybe I just turned numb, either way I’d end up calling and entering his password and deleting all my angst and painful messages knowing he never heard them and didn’t care enough about me to listen to them or wonder. I’d realize he was somewhere else that probably felt better to him than being with me in our home. I can recall so many hours feeling so unloved and uncared for. I thought I could forget those days..those moments.

And yet tonight for whatever reasons, call it all what you will….in the end it’s after midnight and I’m feeling all of those same things and I know it’s no longer him that’s causing them.

I recall the way the shrink told me that all those nights happened because I let them happen to me. I “let them” happen. I allowed it.

I am who I am. I am that girl that gets up daily and trudges off to work because I want to own a home of my own one day. I want to know what it is to drive a brand new car that’s only ever been mine. I want to know that my old age will be covered. I want to know that my son might have a chance in hell of being able to go to college himself in 6 years.

I don’t like people making me feel bad because I can’t throw it all down the drain. I can’t allow anyone to make me feel that my goals mean shit because to me they are everything.

I could not sit somewhere doing what someone else is doing knowing for a moment that it was hurting the one person I loved.

Fuck leaving messages on voicemails, fuck trying to explain….I only know that I will not sit and be dismissed and made to feel this way for years…THAT shit will never happen to me again. I either matter or I don’t and I’m not going to sit around and try to make myself matter more…more than those other things that creep back in despite the promises.

Not again. I’m going to go somewhere….with or without anyone along for the ride. If you can't help me steer my life in the right direction than get your own ride.

11:22 p.m. ::
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