A co-worker once shared his opinion that of all the days of the week, Wednesday is the worst. Then, this week has been full of them.
Does nursing a broken heart ever get easier?
I walked into the Wine rack on monday evening, in what was probably a misguided effort to indulge in one evening of numbing the pain of heartbreak, as I was honestly a bit of a wreck. At the counter, I began giggling as I was struck by the question: How many times a week are the employees at establishments such as the Wine Rack, the LCBO, the Beer Store faced with patrons rushing in with tear-stained faces, looking a mess and grabbing the first thing off the shelf? I imagine this is probably most common in the former, and least the in latter. Beer Stores (or, getting all retro here - "Brewer's Retail") always strike me as being bastions of masculinity, where wanton displays of emotion would be wholly unwelcome.
Get in, get yer beer and get the heck out. No crybabies here, thanks.
The LCBO simply provides too much choice for someone who is truly on edge, emotionally. It's just confusing and overwhelming. Gin or Tequila? Sweet jesus christ, I can't make these kinds of decisions now. Waaaaaah.
Wine Racks seem to be the binary opposite of Beer Stores. Soft lighting and glass and subdued labels add a certain elegance to desperation. We're not here to judge you. Go home and drown your sorrows. We won't tell.
At any rate, I must have been a sight to behold.
In the movie 'Someone Like You' Ashley Judd goes to her doctor and asks him to remove the part of her olfactory gland that associates smell with memory. I hear that, sister.
Getting out of bed yesterday morning, I nearly stepped in cat vomit. This reminded me of an incident from around the time we had met, where my state of mind was such that even stepping cat vomit couldn't break my spirits. Gazing upon the little gift left by Chloe the kitten, I noted the irony. It starts with cat vomit, and ends with cat vomit. I also noted that perhaps a visit to the vet is in order.
Fuck, I hate being a victim of circumstances beyond my control.
I'm not particularly pleased to know that this likely not the LAST time I'll go through this, either. It takes a lot of effort not to become one of the bitter. I'm trying really hard to keep believing in the general goodness of people. We're basically flawed beings, all of us. I'm trying, hard as it may be, to believe that beneath the flaws we all possess, are the best of intentions.
I'll move on. I'll regain hope. I'll probably get my heart handed to me on a platter. AGAIN. and the cycle will continue until I get it right.
The only other option is to give up, become one of the bitter and die alone. I'm not prepared to do that.