I left my heart in a cliche’

It’s Wednesday; the name comes from the Middle English Wednes dei, which is from Old English language Wēdnes dæg, meaning the day of the English god Wodan (Woden) who was a god of the Anglo-Saxons in England until about the 7th century. Wēdnes dæg is like the Old Norse Oðinsdagr ("Odin's day"), which is an early translation of the Latin dies Mercurii ("Mercury's day"), and reflects the widespread association of Woden with Mercury going back to Tacitus.[i] I’m depressed still, just another day. Nothing seems to make me feel any better. I can’t stop thinking about her. I wonder what she’s doing, (I wonder who she’s doing) I wonder what’s happening over in California. I can’t help it. I thought it would be better once I reached the other side of the country. I thought I would be having fun and forgetting. I thought I would get laid and party with my old friends and everything would be better. I thought wrong.  There’s an old song called “I left my heart in San Francisco”, I have been avoiding using it since it’s so old it’s become somewhat of a cliché now, but it’s apropos now.  

                The only thing I can think about since I have been back is how I am going to get back out there to the left coast, and to her. I know it’s stupid. Even if I made it back tomorrow it wouldn’t be the same, it couldn’t be the same. It’s silly to even think that it could. Nothing is ever the way we left it. Time keeps moving and things change, feelings change. I would love to be able to move on, to find someone else or just be happy alone, but she haunts me. The computer I’m using to type this-she bought me. The camera I use daily-she bought me. The music I listen to, she-hated. Well some of it. Whenever one of the bands we both loved comes in rotation I cry a little. I think of the good times and block out the bad. I imagine that the next time I see her she’ll run to my arms and admit what a terrible mistake leaving me was. I know that will never happen. She’s too stubborn and pig headed to do that even if it were true.

                I wouldn’t either if I were her. After all what do I have to offer any one? Other than a slightly above average penis I have nothing. No job, no home, no future what so ever. I can’t even get a shitty job because I’ve been too busy feeling sorry for myself for the last eight months. I just sit around going back and forth between the television and the computer. Alternating between faking laughter and crying like a baby. I can’t even masturbate any more it just makes me realize how pathetic my life has become. I go out occasionally since I’ve been back home. I listen to friends tell stories of how wild and crazy I once was and I see in their eyes that they hope I will be that way again soon. I thought I would, I hoped coming back to my hoe would be reinvigorating and I would feel the old spark and get my fight back. Instead I just feel eve older and more pathetic than I did when I was sitting alone in Oakland.  I’m trying not to cry as write this. My hands are trembling. I need to eat something but I can’t.

                These days I survive on a steady diet of nothing. I haven’t had much money for booze and I lost my interest in real food some time ago. When I do force myself to eat, it usually McDonalds or some microwave pizza, which tastes like crap. I just shove it down my throat to keep myself alive for another day. I keep a slither of hope alive, but on days like today I wonder why I bother. I don’t think I will ever love or live the same again. I just don’t feel like I could ever trust someone with my secrets again. I don’t feel I could lie in bed and talk to someone the way we did. And the thought of never feeling that way again is breaking me. It’s destroying my will, which I once thought was indomitable. I don’t sleep right,, but I never really did so for me that’s saying something. I’m lucky if I get three or four hours in the morning. I should be job hunting right now, instead I’m typing out another dumb blog that no one will read. If I knew a solution I would have taken it months ago. I just keep typing so that these thoughts don’t completely destroy me.

 

 

 

 

 

 


[i] From Wikipedia

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