I feel disembodied and floaty today. I see my limbs doing things but don't necessarily feel them as they go. I feel like I'm in somebody's body, looking through her eyes and working her arms and legs like a puppeteer. It's disturbing and I don't like it. I was OK this morning when I ate ice cream for breakfast at 7 a.m. But now that I'm at work and I've eaten a proper meal, I just feel detached and disassociated from myself. I was standing in a friend's office, telling her about what happened last night and I realized I couldn't really feel myself. Even as I wiped away the tears that I embarrassingly let slip, they didn't quite feel real.
I never noticed how childlike my desk here at work is. I have all manner of objects on my shelves, including a stuffed lady bug that J got me. His name is Larry and he holds my bosses receipts so that I can remember to do his expense reports. I have random gifts from the stalker that I haven't gotten around to throwing out yet. There are cards from various friends for various occasions, and toys I brought from home. There is even a stuffed animal cat named Five, sitting in a dark recess where only I can see him.
How can one be so childish and feel such tearing, ripping, gaping pain? How can one be so childish and hurt so maturely?
I told him last night that it was over, that I didn't have any romantic feelings for him. I eventually went home and sobbed. I've cried twice at work today, once at my desk, holding it back fairly successfully, and once in my friend's office, unable to save face. My friend told me that I can't be responsible for J's emotions and I can't go around collecting people to help and fix like baby birds with broken wings. I know that. I also know that I did the right thing, telling him last night rather than putting it off.
But all the knowing in the world doesn't make me feel better at all.
I never noticed how childlike my desk here at work is. I have all manner of objects on my shelves, including a stuffed lady bug that J got me. His name is Larry and he holds my bosses receipts so that I can remember to do his expense reports. I have random gifts from the stalker that I haven't gotten around to throwing out yet. There are cards from various friends for various occasions, and toys I brought from home. There is even a stuffed animal cat named Five, sitting in a dark recess where only I can see him.
How can one be so childish and feel such tearing, ripping, gaping pain? How can one be so childish and hurt so maturely?
I told him last night that it was over, that I didn't have any romantic feelings for him. I eventually went home and sobbed. I've cried twice at work today, once at my desk, holding it back fairly successfully, and once in my friend's office, unable to save face. My friend told me that I can't be responsible for J's emotions and I can't go around collecting people to help and fix like baby birds with broken wings. I know that. I also know that I did the right thing, telling him last night rather than putting it off.
But all the knowing in the world doesn't make me feel better at all.
No comments:
Post a Comment