punching glass

I spent a majority of the morning at the library, where I am again. I groggily woke at 10 am this morning, after getting home from work around 2:30am-ish. The morning didn't go so well from there. A call from my employer wanting to know the intimate details of last night's bar scene drama. She fires one employee and asks me to cover for her tonight. She also adds that she's going to pull the prime section from the other waitress to give to me. I'm not overly thrilled with the idea. I don't want to work tonight, it's my ONE Saturday night off in I don't even know how long.

I really really (really) need the money. But I'm taking a shift from a girl that I partially am to blame for her being fired, and taking a section from another waitress because my boss is making me. Well, she's not holding a gun to my head, but If I don't, then I have issues with her, and she makes the schedule. She's one of those types, if I don't go along, I'm automatically against. I don't like this predicament. Especially since my ultimate solution is to go along with it, for the money. Now I'm driven by greed. I don't like this feeling. But I can't call the electric company and explain to them that morally I just couldn't take the shift & therefore can't pay the electric this month. They just won't get it.

So, to placate my blues, I spent the morning idly reading other blogs at the library. Until my time was up & I walked six blocks to my car & drove 10 blocks home. Why, you ask? Because. I don't want to feel like I'm wasting my life away being inactive. So I park in random parking lots & walk to my desired destination. I've walked from home to library on many occasions, but in 20 degree weather it doesn't work out so well. So I find middle ground and drive/walk to the library.

Upon arriving home, I grab the door knob only to find I have locked myself out. I packed my lil purse this morning, but decided not to carry it due to the walking plan. I picked out the important items upon walking out the door & obviously felt that house keys were unimportant. As I stood at the back door, knowing that I have securely locked each & every window now that I live alone, I am heavy. This is routine for me. Forgetting important things. Why do I always do this to myself?

I traipse to the front door, knowing it too will be firmly locked, but hoping that I boo-booed that as well. To no avail. It's locked. BUT, I find a package left at my front door by the post man that I may not have found for several days under normal circumstances. As it stands, I'm really not sure how long it was there. Since I'm out front I decided to check the mail box. A few random junk mail thingys, and one little yellow envelope marked Dept. Of Corrections. Great. I thought he had gotten the picture, but I was again mistaken.

I stand at the front door, waiting for the easy answer to fall from the blue sky. Which is very clear today, I notice as I gaze up at it longingly wishing for it to drop down and wrap around me. My next decision, which window to break... My windows are actually split into six little squares in what normally would be one large pane. I go to the side of the house that is least noticable & have two windows to choose from. The one beside my bed, and the one beside the stairs to the loft. I settle on choice two. One little pane has a crack which makes me decision that much easier.

Glancing around, I find nothing to break it with. Well, I find nothing because I don't really want to find anything. I want to punch it. I've never punched glass before. Now I have a legitimate reason to & I want to! I feel almost exhilirated by this revolution.

I want to punch the glass. To watch it break around my fist. To watch it fall to the ground in shattered pieces. So I do it! It was not that difficult to do either! I have a tiny little scratch on my right index finger, but I'm not sure if that was from punching the glass or trying to scurry through the window. Either way, I don't care. I did it!

Now I'm standing in the crisp snow, outside of my broken window, which doesn't want to stay up on it's own, pondering how to life my fat ass up into that window without cutting myself to pieces or dragging snow into the house. Ooompf. I make a half hearted jump and squiggle, flapping my legs like I used to when I was trying to scramble upon a horse bareback. Using the steps inside as leverage I pull myself through the window & feel triumphant at my thrilling accomplishment.

I now have a key tied to the shed outside so that I will not have to repeat my fiasco ever again. I also have a window pane to replace before the landlord comes for her spring review in March. :(

Now what. Oh, the package behind the front door. And the little yellow envelope that I don't want to open. The package is jeans that my mother decides doesn't fit her & that I should be able to wear. Nice. Some are white washed with black lace trim. I wouldn't be caught dead dreaming about a pair of jeans such as those. She tries.

The yellow envelope. One page. The I love you's, everything will be different, and the please write me; it drives me insane. I want to scream out loud. Everything that I have ever given him. Everything that I have done for him. Everything that I have given up for him. He has no concept. Ten years. Ten Years!

The letters are still the same. Nothing changed. Word for word. Why did I allow this to go on for so long. I want to scream at myself. To scream at the world. I want to cry. For all the moments I tried so hard. For all the believing, the trusting. Over and over. For lives that I have ruined because of him. Because I let him. Can I ever explain that to anyone? That I want to punch windows. That I want to scream. That I want to cry. That I just want to give up.

Love is a cruel trick.

In letting go, I have become him. Everything that I hate.

In writing this, I am showing you who I am, as I see myself. Cold & black. Darkened.