Standing Butterfly
Standing at the station at 11.30pm. Cold. Dark. Slightly rainy.No one there but me.
There is no taxi.
I can not ring home.
My boyfriend has no car. He stuffed up by forgetting to re-register. And it doesn't help for me to continually harp on about it.
Last time this happened that I had to go home on my own and ring a taxi, I swore that this would be the first and last time.
I broke that rule tonight. And as I shivered in panic and cold when I realised that it would take me one hour to get home by walking in my new four inch heeled boots, and none of my friends were available to pick me up, the phrase 'never again' returned to my mind.
I can't do this.
No matter the jealousy I felt tonight when he was introduced to the most bimboesque female that ever graced the planet, and he smiled at her, held out his hand said, "I don't know your name" and proceeded to tell her his. No matter the fear I felt at his charming display with me standing right beside him. No matter that he loves me madly and laughed at my childish display and later admittance of jealousy. No matter that he kisses me and tells me that I am the only one for him, and asks me if I'll still love and feed him when he's 65.
I just do not want to run around in the dark anymore. No more secrets. No more lies. No more fear at home. No more panic. No more hiding in the dark. No more pretending. I need to be honest. I need to be upfront. It's killing me inside. To have to lie to family. To have to lie at work.
I am so exhausted inside.
And because I knew the consequences and did them anyway - because I knew - I have no one to blame. I am not allowed to complain. He has the right of way.
I'm just really upset. The fear, panic and defeat that I experienced standing in an empty parking lot desperately hoping that someone would pick up my taxi call and come and pick me up. The distress when I began walking on my own, mentally preparing myself for explaining to home why I was an hour late. The fear that I may well have to cave in and ring home, admit defeat, and get them to come and pick me up.
I hate that even though I told you I don't want to talk to you tonight, that you don't hear the tears in my voice in the voicemail I left on your phone, or the two messages that I wrote, that you don't immediately respond. I don't care that you're tired. Or that maybe you don't have your phone with you. All I know is that you aren't here to see me safely home. And I hate that I can't do anything to change the situation.
I'm just frustrated and tired, and winding down from a panic attack. I need to blog this out. I need to tell someone of my distress and unhappiness. I don't think I can take your lack of transport for much longer.
What's the point of being able to go out at night with you if I can't get home safely? If my night ends in a panic attack and tears as I stand there in the cold desperately trying to figure out how I can get home without getting into trouble.
And even though I know that technically I cannot 'get into trouble' if I'm an adult, I'm going to say it anyway: get into trouble.
Despite that post this morning, right now, I'm very unhappy.
~ * ~ * ~
So you just msged me. You left your phone at home. And it's going to be 3 months before you have your car back. Right now I am in such a state that I'm tempted just to tell you that I will not go out with you at night any more. It's just too much hassle. Too much stress. And I don't want mum to know that you stuffed up.
I know things aren't perfect. I know things should never be perfect. But right now all I want to do is blame you for everything. This whole responsibility thing - I don't want it. It's a burden I can't really handle.
I'm just so tempted to spite you and say - no more late nights. It's lunch or nothing. There's just no plausible explanation for your absence of car anymore.
And I just messaged you to tell you that I can't move in with you because I'm not ready. And my only response is 'ok.'
That's not the answer I want. But then again my answer most likely isn't the answer you want either.
I just want to blame you. I'm tired of being the 'good' girlfriend who always does right by you and never *truly* complains. Who gives in on everything to you because I can. Who never really says no to you. Who will try and please you whenever I can. Who is in some ways subservient and obedient. I just want to be selfish. And blame you.
All of you.
posted by Enigmatic Butterfly @ 12:24 am
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