That was inappropriate. I didn't know how to handle heavy things with her before, I know less even now. Every letter that scrawls across the screen seems crueler than the last,

she...

...I...

We...

got in a fight at the party. It was mostly my fault, I mean it was her fault she told him to watch out for me, that I had already been unfaithful. It was his fault that he starting screaming at me so slinked away to avoid dealing with him. She shouldn't have done that she knew I was trying; He started to look at me like a possession. I can't blame her though. I want to, as if this could have been an inevitable conclusion to everything that had happened between us.

She was in the bathroom, staring into the mirror half-sad and half-satisfied, when I forced my way in without knocking. She should have never let me in, and this was the last time she ever did.

Insufficient words were exchanged, a our routine cruelly trapped us in an endless inconsequential conversation that swirled and whirred until the shit was clogged and the whole room started to reek,  until things started to get physical. Months of pent up frustration and unspoken heartbreak poured out in the way we thrashed each other around our tiny disgusting bathroom. The body that used to press up against me in warmth and wetness was now pushing my face into the hair trap at the cold and damp bottom of our tub tiny tub. Shampoo bottles and shaving gel used as batons to force us off each other.

It was my fault that I pushed her. I... acted, unsure of what I was doing. A cocktail of uppers, downers were throwing my consciousness in and out of commission from around 12-4. She was cold by 3.

I pushed her away from me

and she flew out of control

with nothing to grab hold of

and she...

...she left an indentation on the counter-top and a spurt of blood on the mirror. It stood out sharply against the turquoise reflection of the rest of the bathroom and made it impossible for me to see the tears that were streaming down my face when I stood up and realized what had happened. I screamed and stumbled out of the bathroom into a room full of her friends, covered in her death, and that's all I can bear to remember.

... last night went a little something like this. Well, I mean, it went absolutely beyond something like this, the irony in my voice isn't really translating and I can't handle this in a straight forward manner. 

I mean I party hard, sometimes I romanticize a little bit and pretend the Prodigy made this video about me and I mean generally I never get violent, some play fighting here or there, but never to these levels. I'm not a violent person. I had originally meant for this to be a fun like "Smack my Bitch up" lol haha whoops jk sort of thing to express a crazy tense night with her and him and little old me all together and partying...

... But everything I've posted hitherto has been shit. 

... Complete, utter shit. 

I decided to post the video anyways because it still ties in, wait there's a surprise ending, the second I can figure out how to say it, I will but I can't say it. Words stall into one another in the crowed space between my teeth, I...

...I accidentally killed my roommate and ex-girlfriend on her birthday. In the bathroom, with a marble counter top and a little excessive force. I've never said "it was an accident" like this before...

But it was. 

I...

Abandon all hope ye who enter here. 

Smiling Faces, they Don't Tell the Truth. Little Boxes. Looking Back With Pride?.  

It's been a crazy ridiculous week, even with my sleep tank constantly running on fumes... something I should used to by now, I just have been out of my head for the past couple days and I don't really have anyone to talk to anymore.

 I guess I alienated a lot of my friends in the break-up process even though she seems to be surviving. Less sad music, a more joyful pothead to say the least and more frequent discussions of the co-workers that she finds attractive. She has even been trying to pretend to be interested in my life again, since I told her I missed having a best friend but I can tell those wounds do not need to be re-aggravated so I try not to tell her all the people that creep on me or too many details about my sex life.

So, speaking of, that list that I made (displayed below) was a sham.

I'm trying, I really am but there is that brain and need for instant gratification again. 

So I have a couple of stories to tell. For starters, the new open relationship has some constraints around it already that I've had some trouble tip-toeing around despite our distance.

One, because I fooled around with his childhood best friend. It just happened.
Two, because he is coming up to visit soon. I haven't told him.
Three, because the term and conditions of our thing stipulate that the only penis I touch ("That's so misogynistic and pathetic, doesn't that bother you?" she quipped.) is his. Girls are fair game. I'm not complaining.

I'm still a dick, the whole 'in touch and honest with my feelings' awareness has been fading in and out like a radio station set to dial I didn't pick to really listen to.

Also, I'm starting to feel uncharacteristically apprehensive about this weekend. 

Should I get her a birthday present to make up for the fact that I stupidly forget to tell her he'd be here? What does one even give to their kind-of-ex who they still share a bathroom with and have to see all the time because cheap rent is hard to find on short notice?

Like, would an assortment of different fruits be appropriate? If there is going to be a projectile thrown in my direction, I'd prefer it to have the density of a pear or something. They are pretty soft on impact and she has a mean arm when she's drunk.
 

 

The other story is that she finally unpinned the note I wrote her from the bulletin board in her room the other day knowing that he'd be here and her reminder not the relapse into her addiction was futile since I have been off peddling elsewhere. I took a picture of it for posterity--she told me it had been up for over a month and that I never noticed. I also never noticed how articulate I am: 

"List of things I am going to try to do" Excerpt from 4-17-2012-3:53AM

1) Stop being such a dick

2) Move out of New York, but first

3) Camp out in Prospect Park and buy breakfast for some of the hobos and ask them sincere questions

4) Show her that I'm sorry and I am making an effort

5) Be faithful to my boyfriend (ugh it sounds so bad) 

6) Do laundry and get a haircut, I'm starting to look janky 

Just a set I've been working on. Urban suffocation with a hint of transcendence and a dash towards  Freedom. May 2012.