you oughta know

i'm concerned. the little voice in my head that's been asking how could i let this happen? is now asking how could that mother fucker do this to me? hilary warned me that i'd be entering the "anger" phase of the breakup--how is she so much more down to earth about these things than i am?--and that it'd be a nightmare since terry and i are still living together, but i guess i hadn't expected it to come so quickly, and with such little warning.

it's here, though. i can feel it welling up inside me every time i think of this kevin person from ann arbor (trust me, you don't want to know); every time that terry goes about his little life, acting like nothing has happened. nothing, that is, except for him securing his freedom and his solitude, confident in his ability to start a new life in chicago, packing the life he had in baltimore into a cigar box and shoving it into the bottom drawer of his already-crowded desk or under his bed. the same bed, the psychotic in me fears, which he will share with kevin-of-ann-arbor after they both move to chicago. even as i sit here typing this, my hands nearly shaking (lack of nicotine?), i realize how crazy it sounds. it is crazy. right?

just like i had to validate my sadness, though, i'm going to validate my rage. i'm going to do my best not to take it out on terry (screaming) or on myself (cigarettes). the former will be easier than the latter. it's always been easier for me to hurt myself than to hurt others.

i better be careful, or this essay's going to turn into an alanis morrissette song.