A Sideways Glance in the Mirror

I had to end the relationship on Saturday. It had gone on too long, it had become too desperate, I felt more alone with him in my life than without. Sadly, it was the healthiest, most mentally-balanced relationship I've ever had. Still, despite all of the self-examination and determination, there was nothing I could do to make it right.He accused me of believing he was my father: I needed his approval.The regurgitation of self-help babble was exhausting enough. I knew it was meant to distract me. He counted me on forgetting that, despite constant teasing about my mountains of books and obsession with F1, I carried on. I gave up very little simply to shut him up. He was in no position to judge me.He wasn't bright, or focused, enough to level the real, deadly observation. He was acting like my mother. The creature who could obliterate any worth or love in your soul. The creature who believed that not doing the cleaning was just as unforgivable as swearing allegiance to someone else, to lying over a lifetime. The creature who wouldn't be so vulnerable as to give the benefit of the doubt.Of course, I had meant to hurt him.He was so sure that I wouldn't be "allowed" to ever bring it up.He was angry at me because I didn't clean the "house" on time, as he packed to move out, and he needed any number of days to "cool off."He may call me, he may not. He may see me in a couple of weeks, he may not. I was expected to wait.I simply could not lower myself to that level. No, sorry, you're not worth the reassurance. It didn't matter if he came out the other side smelling like daisies and put himself on Prozac. No mistake is worth that degrading nonsense.I simply couldn't do it any more. I had worked too hard, fought too much, to settle for this.It has left me utterly drained. By and large, I need to be left alone. I don't know why anyone would think I would want to hear any of their petty drama now. I can't even stand to hear catty remarks about the ex. I just want it gone.I couldn't stop listening to "Harrowdown Hill" this morning, as I walked to work. Listening to Tool's "Prison Sex" was impossible. There was too much intensity. Yorke's lyrics had little, or nothing, to do with my life. But I could fade away.

I could fade into the trees. My desk. My chair. There's a wormhole, somewhere, and if I was lucky, there was another side. And if not - then at least I was not here, where I did not belong.Music for the void? Amazingly, it's possible. Perhaps we can only approximate nothingness; perhaps, for me "Harrowdown Hill" and "How to Disappear Completely" is enough. I'll listen to Sigur Ros when I come out the other side.But, for now, give me my shell.