Unexplainable bruises.

Last night was bizarre. I broke up with my boyfriend out of frustration that has been building since January. It wasn't really planned, it was spontaneous irrationality. Constant arguing, perpetual reading between the lines and suppressed insecurities mounted to a tipping point. It wasn't even in person. When I called him and flatly told him my decision he asked me if I was on something. My voice was so toneless, so emotionless that I could have been flat-lining. If I checked my pulse I probably was flat-lining. My heart was breaking. Why are relationships so difficult? Is anyone's relationship without tremors?

I hung up after my eerily calm complaints and arguments for disengaging our relationship. After sitting for a moment I immediately regretted my decision, I called him back masking my pleads with frustrated desires. I'm not sure I even made sense. But I hung up on him after more static communication. I shut my light off, curled up in my bed and waited for sleep to comfort me. Five minutes later I decided to drag my roommate to a work party down the street.

We made it to the "party" when it was breaking up. My gangly manager was swaying back and forth with a lukewarm Natty ice as his pseudo-gavel. He used it for emphasis during his lengthy diatribe about our new manager who he can't stand. A few of my other co-workers were nodding and smiling at our manager's goofy display, but kept hinting at their desired departure. Mike and I stood disappointed that we weren't drunk and that the "party" wasn't much of a. . .party. But after a few beers on an empty stomach and a dance party, Mike was passed out and I was spray painting my frustrations away in the cold, letting the fumes and the artistry take my mind off my aching.

I came home and passed out. He came to me. Was I still drunk? It was dreamlike. I wanted him to stay forever. I wanted him to go away. I just wanted everything to be back to normal, whenever that was. . .was it ever? He was so warm. He's always so warm. I'm always so cold. That's an analogy for the way our hearts are too. He's so good, I'm so awful. It's makes it easy for me to hurt him.

And now I'm awake. Somehow I have bruises all over my legs. Big, plum colored, plum sized bruises. I've got a pile of dishes in the kitchen, a big assignment due for my father, a rent check i cannot afford and a wall of laundry with a smell that will haunt me until Thursday when I can finally afford to wash it. And then there's that hole in my heart that I'm not sure is repairable overnight. Does it require mending of a relationship or coming to terms with past trauma from unrelated situations? It's all too much to think about on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

Let's just start all over.