Empty-Minded Girl

A:  Oh, now you know what’s best for me?

R:  I’m just asking that you reconsider everything; give it some more thought.

A:  Thank you so much, but I don’t think I need the advice of someone like you.

R:  I’m not even going to question what you mean by that…  But I’d like to believe my opinion is at least –

A:  The opinion of someone stuck in a dead end job…

R:  I do what I do because it’s easy and work there because I’m paid very well.  I’m happy with my job.  And that’s not even what this –

A:  No, you’re there because they don’t ask employees to hold a diploma of any sort.

R:  I work –

A:  You’re there because you’re too fucking lazy to aim higher or to go back to school.  That’s really why you’re there.

R:  Calm.  Down.

A:  Thanks, Daddy, but I’m just fine!

A’s teeth were chattering and hands were clenched, ready and partly wanting to strike out.  R’s composure was as solemn as always.  R sighed heavily, showing a sign of giving up, and walked to the nearby wall shelf.  After collecting some belongings, including keys, R said, over shoulder, “I’ll talk to you… sometime,” and walked out, carefully closing the door behind.  A let rage take over for a moment and kicked the door, hard enough to revisit some severe pain upon her, upon myself.

Two days ago.

I was approached fairly recently with a job offer.  Same position/title, different company.  I was poached by a competing company.  I would have to relocate but not very far from where I’m at.  The benefits are about the same.  Pay would be significantly increased.  I would have a single office to work out of (which I’ve visited and it’s phenomenal).  And the person who came to me was my “retired” ex-boss.

I wanted the job immediately and was very excited.  My boyfriend didn’t share in the joy.  Facts are, we’ve become very comfortable as we are/where we are.  My job, due to my inability to come into any location or travel, has more or less become a home-job.  Everything we were planning together was basically going to happen right where we were.

Yes, past-tense.

Everyone who knows me knows that I’m a manic depressive.  It’s how I’m wired.  And no, I don’t medicate for it because I’m perfectly capable of catching myself at one extreme or the other and righting my mood.  Most times.  It was different, obviously, two days ago.

He wanted to discuss the change, I didn’t.  I was furious that he wasn’t happy about it all.  I was enraged that he couldn’t just accept my decision outright.  I wasn’t myself.  I look back and see it all now and I really don’t know who that woman is.  But she was angry and cruel.

Truth is, he makes me seem foolish when it comes to intellect.  He’s brilliant and for everything past high school, self-educated.  I’ve even seen past records in which he was to graduate high school at 15, but didn’t; he spent two more years to further educate himself for free (as his mother has even mentioned).  But one thing he doesn’t have is a piece of paper declaring a “further” education.  It’s something he has told me time and time again that he admires me for and even feels jealousy about.  And that’s what the bitch in me knew and used in order to win a (non-) argument.

Why am I bothering to write all this out?  Lord knows none of you pixelated people truly gives a shit about this pixel girl.  I think it’s because I’m losing hope and want any real or non-real person to know that I’m hurting… deservedly so, sure.  I’m in my furniture-less apartment some two-and-a-half hours from home and the floors are soaked with my tears.  Days after his birthday, days before my own, days past our two year anniversary, and I allow myself to lose control and senselessly lash out.  Surrounded by days of happiness and I may have lost the one thing in my life that defined happy.

This will be another night which will be spent sleeping upon the cold carpeted floor.  Another day will follow the night and shall present with more worry, regret, and no doubt more blathering about to the walls crying.  But I’m trying.  I’m working hard at being “myself” and doing “me” things; sadly all my “me” things usually take place online anymore.  So if you get an onslaught of annoying emails, forum posts, whispers, late night phone calls, just anything, please humor me and play along with the “normal” chit chat.  I need it.

I don’t deserve any forgiveness.

I’m so sorry, R.  I love you.