16 December 2009
My shower sprung a leak tonight. A bolt that fit all these years, this evening, was completely incapable of containing the flow of water. Regardless of how I manipulated and adjusted it, nothing seemed to work and the water still shot out like a geyser. How does something so simple become like advanced sudoku out of nowhere?
I was standing there in frustration when the phone rings in the next room, and I am surprised to see your name on the caller ID. It seems you have "sorta started dating someone else" but not to worry, "I am a great guy and you will miss seeing my eyes". (It's these compliments at the end that get me the most, like some shitty consolation prize).
I look around my room, and I can still feel all of the hours we spent in there and the ghosts of our year long, late night, mid week conversations. Everything reminds me of you and I wonder how it got this far. You've never made me laugh or want to meet your parents, but that face, your face, is the sweetest I have seen and I hate the thought of not seeing it anymore. My empty bed looks cruel and I fall asleep in a panic and in tears. Water is everywhere and it's an inescapable reality given my lack of skill at fixing leaks.
This wasn't how I imagined our demise...me in my soaked boxers and tshirt, holding a phone and a wrench, listening to you tell me about someone else who makes you happy.
Can we just put a nail in this year already, please?