the world and writing of a nyc writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: sorrow (page 4 of 11)

terrible things

Namaste blah-g tribe

As much as I’ve been on-ing about my love life recently, terrible things started happening about four days ago.

IMG_3571First, a colleague I’m very fond of is moving on. I’m extremely proud this person found a new place to strut their writing talent, but I’ll miss seeing my friend every day.

Speaking of friends, I had a huge falling out with my best friend when he decided to contact one of my ex-boyfriends – why, I’m still uncertain. But it certainly pissed me off.

Furthermore, there are private, health-related family things I’ve been limping through for about a month or so.

I combined this with the way that my relationship is starting to feel like it’s “long distance”, and my mood for the past 80 hours or so has been harrowing. Continue reading

because i suck at this

IMG_3530I don’t have a boyfriend again. After we spent four days making up, I had an anxiety attack this afternoon and told him we shouldn’t see each other.

This is upsetting for a spectrum of reasons. However, I feel myself retreating to the safety of where I cut the world off and fall into a meditative state of complete nothingness.

There are a lot of reasons I suck at being a girlfriend. However, I find my greatest issue in feigning relationships with the human species is the anthropomorphic perception of time.

I’m hard and fast. Life is short, experience is precious. If I start having experiences with someone, like I had with Anthony recently, for example, or even the Frenchman – I can’t comprehend why these experiences don’t occur as frequently as possible.

As much as I’m in love with being in love, I also feel like love is a fucking joke and probably not in the cards for me this walk around. I take “in or out” to a manic level that most Earth dwellers cannot comprehend.

It’s pushing four in the morning. I’m drinking vodka sodas, looking at the east river out my IMG_3544window and blasting Elastic Heart in my ears. I’m not sure why I do these things that pull my heart strings to a vague sense of torture.

Sometimes I think it’s because I’ll never heal from my marriage breakdown. I certainly won’t as long as I keep spending time with people who only give a shit about me on their clock.

I don’t want to change anything about mySelf. I’d like to stop trying to find someone to love though. It’s not even like I’m stomping streets trying to find it. It’s just that when I meet someone who is extremely special to me, I take it too seriously.

I’m going to try to stop doing that.

 

your socks

The last night I saw you was the only night my dog ever pissed on my floor. She did it while you were here doing drugs in my bathroom that were delivered by my dealer in a silver BMW about twenty minutes ago.

These are things that happen in Manhattan.

I’ve known you for almost two years now and you have begged and pleaded and played on the weakness my divorce cut me with and broke both of my knees.

I’ve given you a lot. Too much. Things I will never get back. Things you will never deserve. But if you ever thought I would give you the number of my delivery service – you played yourself. Continue reading

up picking

In the midst of stumbling on and off my face lately, I fell through the door yesterday to my very quiet IMG_2190 apartment and was immediately unhappy.

I kind of reckon Artists have a unique pain thresh hold. And since I hold on to this “every low is followed by a fabulous happiness” I really make a legit effort to limp through.

However, some days I suck at it. And yes, it is still a traumatic reaction to an ex-partner’s uselessness. I’ve finally come to see over the past three or four months, I don’t miss him. I just can’t live alone. Continue reading

get out of my head space

Namaste blog tribe

I still feel shit. The worst part about the crash-like low times is the literal sitting around and waiting for it to pass.

It has to pass.

One of my best friends killed himself in April. I never mentioned it in these parts because I wasn’t ready, I’m probably still not. But considering that two of my best friends have now killed themselves over depression, in the past 20 months, I can’t help but think of them both when I get this low. Continue reading

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