I wanted to go to church this morning, but with serious Metro delays and no desire to drive into Georgetown or bike in the unusually cool weather, I chickened out. Honestly I just couldn't get the motivation to go, and I really wish I had. Now it's too late, and I'm in my apartment, feeling very mopey and acting like a complete psycho.
I'm REALLY beginning to feel resentful about the fact that my thoughts are so public on here. I'm being frank about my journey because I find it really, really helpful to get it out there. That's just how I am. But, damn it, I want to know what is going on in SCL's head! Even four weeks into the break-up, he has yet to live up to his promise to tell me why the hell he decided to end things. I told him on Thursday, "I don't believe you ever will." He said, "I understand why you'd feel that way."
Yeah, maybe because he NEVER communicated his feelings? Is that perhaps a little bit why I might think that? Yeah, no shit.
Ugh, the rage, the anger, the tension. It is bubbling up inside me. I want to tear up the apartment, going through each and every little bit of his things, look for some clue, some insight into his head. But I know I wouldn't find anything. He's too private; I'm sure anything like that he's taken with him. Except for one thing: there is a metal box in his closet with a big Masterlock padlock on it. I'm constantly wondering what's inside it and why he felt the need to padlock it.
That box is symbolic of his intimacy phobia. He literally locked me out of his life with a huge ass padlock. He did the same with his feelings, fears, and dreams--packed them away and locked me out. I am so resentful about that.
I want to take a huge fucking hammer and beat the shit out of that box and smash the lock into pieces. I've been googling various phrases like "Just broke up with my girlfriend," wading through all the results with the ridiculous hope that maybe he posted something online about it. I desperately, desperately want in. That's what I've always wanted, and he never, never let me in. He says he regrets it, but he's not changing it.
I don't know how to let go, how to accept that this is what it is. I'm not there yet. I don't know how to get there.