Saturday Morning

Journal entry - Sat. 24 July 2004

Saturday Morning

He rolls over
turns his back on me
leaving me alone again
in this now-familiar place

And I ask myself
"What am I doing here?"
Not just here, in this place,
but here, with him,
in this relationship
that isn’t a relationship,
but is

There are others
(even one who claims he loves me)
but they are miles away
and our visits are few and far between

So here I lie
with him
in his bed
alone, but not alone

He rolls over again
puts his arm around me
and draws me close

I am quietly grateful as the dark emptiness recedes
if only temporarily
And I wonder,
"How much longer?"
Because I know that it won’t last

And I ask, wordlessly, "Love me"
But I know that it’s not meant to be
That, as he often reminds me,
I am not his girlfriend

He kisses my hair gently, sweetly,
And I plead, silently, "Want me"
Knowing that it is foolishness
To hope for more

And I ask myself again,
"What am I doing here?"

And the many questions go unanswered
Because they remain unasked

This latest drama

I so desire distraction right now, but I can't afford it. This latest drama is a terrible nightmare from which I can’t seem to escape. It’s there when I go to sleep, it’s there when I awake, and it stays with me all day. I throw myself ever deeper into work. “At least I’m being productive. At least I’m earning money.” But it isn’t where I most need to be putting my time & energy. No, what I need to be focused on right now, is sifting through the mountains of “stuff” I’ve accumulated over the past 15 years of living in this house. And now, after 15 years of being an excellent tenant, I am being evicted. Expelled from my home. My HOME. I’ve lived more years under this roof than any other, including my childhood home. In many ways, I’ve done as much “growing up” here as I did there. I’ve fallen in love here, had my heart broken more times than I care to count, and formed numerous close bonds of friendship, most notably with my longtime housemate, J. She has been more like a sister to me than anyone else. She saw me through the loss of my father and I saw her through the loss of her mother. We’ve laughed together and cried together. And we’ve spent countless hours watching TV together. (There’s still no one I’d rather watch television with—only with J is it an interactive experience. : ] ) She was my companion and confidante for nearly 14 1/2 years and life has not been the same since she moved out. No, it’s been one little household drama after another since she left. And now this. What ever am I going to do? People offer words of comfort and “helpful” suggestions, but when it comes down to it, it’s me and my stuff. I have to sort through it, pare it down, part with as much of it as I can bear to, and then move the rest. Sure, I’ll have help with the actual moving (and I do appreciate that, believe me), but that’s not the hard part. The really hard part, the part that I dread, is me, alone with my stuff, going through it, piece by piece, deciding what I can justify keeping and what I have to part with. No one seems to understand how excruciatingly difficult that is for me. Or how emotionally exhausting this all is. Speaking of exhaustion, I'd best close now and get some sleep. Maybe you should too. ; ]

p.s. The new housemates ARE very young, but they're also very nice, sweet kids. Too bad I won't have much time to get to know them. Landlady wants me out by the end of the month.