Lunch Break? No... but shh!

I sort of worked through my lunch break here at the new job, but then again I sort of "break" all throughout my work all the time, too...hehe.
I am going to start writing everyday, by the way. HA, how many times have I said that? A million, at least, but I'm saying it again and I mean it. I'm going to really try this time. Why not? The least I could do is write something short about my day on this blog every day, right? Right!

So anyway, the first thing on my mind is that my status just now was this:

Carrie Gardiner Bragg: pms doesn't make you irrational, it just makes you more sensitive to experiences that would (rationally) upset you anyway. with that said, i sure hate it when other people pms harder than i do, especially when they're male. it's my week, people. how am i suppose to get in some bitch time when everyone else is stealing my thunder??

I wrote it because I'd just gotten off the phone with my boyfriend and he was being really mean because he thought I was being mean because clearly he is ultra sensitivo today because I was, in no way, being mean, and in fact if you had heard the conversation (like his sister did) you would have told me he was being a jerk and that I should hang up on him (which is what Rachel, his sister, said, and I did (hang up on him, I mean)).

Well that sure was convoluted. I just felt like sharing. Mostly because he is like this very very often and, unfortunately, I understand why he does it and forgive it. Forgiving it is okay, I think, except forgiving means I still have to deal with it, and OFTEN. Hate it.

Anywhosies. Another thing on my mind is that Linda, the other assistant, got really sick today and the ambulance had to come take her away from the office. That was the emergency that was going on in the background of our phone conversation when Buddy got mad and thought I was talking to other people and wasn't paying attention to him and was being mean and blah blah blah. See what I mean? Irrational.

I don't know if Linda's okay. I am hopeful she is even still alive.

So Rachel's at the hospital with Linda now and Carol already left, so I'm the only person in the Property Management Department right now, and yes, this is what I'm doing. I'm not irresponsible or anything, it's just that there is so little to do and I am so efficient at doing it that I have to spread out the work in order to fill my day productively. It makes sense, I promise.

The last thing on my mind for now is that I want to write Jake a really long letter, because I want to tell him about the moments, moments like just a few minutes ago when I randomly thought about all the little notes and crafts and things I used to make him when we were together -- I must have really adored him because I was always thinking of him and making him little things to show him I cared -- and I remember his reaction was always a smile and a polite "yeah I like it, it's nice" and then that would be it... and he never made anything like that for me.

I think maybe I adored him and he must not have adored me back. I'd like to tell him about moments when I realize things like that and instant tears come. There's a hole in my heart where he used to be. I wish he could understand that. Regardless of how it ended, every day feels like an extended nightmare when I think about how different life is now. I can't believe two people can share so much and then suddenly, it's like they un-remember and un-experience it all. Well, I haven't un-experienced anything. It's all still with me, and it's heartbreaking to think it never even happened for him. Imagine remembering an entire life vividly that no one else seems to recall or will own up to. I feel alone, but I can't help believing that the whole world could disappear and if he'd just remember again, everything that's upside down or misplaced in my life would magically realign.

This isn't to say I haven't moved on. It's just to say I'm no longer unsure of what I felt for him. Surely nothing but love could have held on this long and this lonely. I have moved on, but that doesn't mean I'll ever heal, or that the hole will ever fill. I am irrevocably changed, like a survivor of a life-threatening car wreck who lost all her limbs.