Sunday, November 12, 2006

Everything You Own in a Box to the Left...

Heartache is a mothafucka...

Remember when you first met them and everything was new and undiscovered and you'd stay on the phone for hours on end talking about everything and nothing at the same time? How the sound of their voice and just one look into their eyes make your knees all wobbly? Remember how you'd fantasize about your future together in the shower? The summer house in Montauk? The brownstone in Fort Greene? The Mediterranean cruise?

And your first fight? Remember how stupid it seemed after you made up? And how you joked about it, how you were being so irrational? Even if deep down you still thought you were in the right and let it go in the name of...dare you think Was it love? Was it?

Remember when you knew it wasn't the same? And how you felt it unravelling, slipping from your control and there was no way to stop it? Remember THE phone call? The one that put the nail in the coffin of what you were afraid of? The one where they say, "It's not working out" or you say, "I can't go on like this" even if it's something you never thought you'd hear or say?

And the moment you hung up...the HEARTACHE! How you clung to your pillow sobbing like you haven't sobbed in so long! How you curled up into a ball and felt so vulnerable and just wanted to be held by the very person that just made you curl into a ball. And the whole world just became you and them and the heartache.

You only ate out of habit, for nutrition, because nothing tasted like anything anymore. You got out of bed and went to work only because you had to. If you could have, you would have stayed in bed for days, staring out the window in between crying fits and obligatory trips to the bathroom to blow your nose.

It's like someone died and you remember the bler-Ross book you read that explained the stages of grief:

1. Denial and isolation - The "This can't be real" stage.: "This is not happening to me." "There must be a mistake"

2. Anger - The "Why me?" stage.: "How dare you do this to me?!"

3. Bargaining - The "If I do this, you’ll do that" stage.: "I'll change and be what they want...they'll want me back after I make this one change..."

4. Depression - The "Defeated" stage.: "I can't bear to face going through this."

5. Acceptance - The "This is going to happen" stage.: "I'm ready, I don't want to struggle anymore."

And, if you're Hispanic from NYC, you remember the 6th stage, the "Fuck that Motherfucker" stage, where you play Beyonce's "Irreplaceable" on repeat while singing along in the mirror, fixing your hair, on your way to finally celebrate that that motherfucker is slowly but surely out of your system.

Only as you head to the club, you see a couple that reminds you of the couple you were just in and it scares you back inside, and on the radio is another sad love song reminding you that you aren't loved by the one you want to love you. But the anger comes back- FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER- and when "If loving you is wrong, I don't wanna be right..." pumps through your speakers you jump out of bed and yell to the radio, "NO! If loving you is wrong then I'm just going to STOP!"

And just like that you just decide, you just know, that your life is worth so much more than some person who couldn't even see your worth. Your mental health is something to cherish. And listening to Lite FM is NOT HELPING! Right there you just decide to stop chasing a pipe dream.
And just like that.

You're better.

Remember that?

*smooches, Jack...those fools don't deserve our love...*
so fuck you
and your untouchable face
and fuck you
for existing in the first place
who am i
that i should be vying for your touch
who am i
bet you can't even tell me that much