Description here. Not sure what to do. Shades of tales from before the crypt. Lines cross significantly.
- The Egg Party
by The Egg Party
To tell the truth work was hard. Exceptions not withstanding I keep my personal and private lives as separate as humanly possible. Unless times are in crisis. I cannot hide weariness. Even in my moments of confused mania it is the one thing my limited expressions lay bare.
I had seen her the day before. I had felt a failure. She said she didn't see our relationship as a failure. I did. I said so as I walked away to pack my things. It felt over dramatic. Also felt true. We were living together Homer, her, and me. Homer was five and I was adapting to living with not only the woman I loved but her child, whom I loved too. When our relationship was sinking, my depression the iceberg that carved the rift, my version of self was too. It was black and white obvious. To marry the version of myself with the truth was rough. Whatever the circumstances that lead to us separating, there was something that I could not do and it was pointed out in new stark reality. I did not feel like a good person.
I had left to live back in Brunswick. Not a choice made easily. I wanted to be close to some of the friends I loved. But not live with them. I knew I was going to be a mess for some time. Better put that on strangers than anyone I cared about. No one I knew really deserved my nonsense. She told me I was taking a step backwards. It was true but inevitable. Where to go next was not an easy question.
I was at my job. I had been doing the same job on and off for years. I had people I knew, a few I knew true. But telling any of the staff about my relationship was difficult. Lines cross. It is an simple, common thing, where staff at a job are not the best of friends. Even when it is a tight knit crew it is difficult. So I did not explain the point but it was distinctly obvious. I was vibrating, fluctuating more than usual. Days of madness, doing tasks at work that were safe but inexplicable. Others where I would be brooding to the point of turning inside out. It was a unique workplace and lucky for me. I would not be able hold down many other forms of employment.
The main guy I looked after did not mind. He did not take too much notice in what was going on that was not about him. I and many of the people I interact with are often the same. But he only looked at the base aspects of any relationship. Rooting, as he put it. To talk to him about it was comparable to discussing superannuation with a sixteen year old.
Though there was a darling elderly lady that lived with him. Heavy set, a significantly cognitively disabled lady. Lovely but repetitive. She would continually talk about her babies and her husbands. She had a number of both. She did this whilst attempting to eat continually. More than once have I had to take the toothpaste from her greedy fingers. She did remember a lot and had an high functioning level of recall. In her own way. She knew of my girlfriend and she reminded me to marry her regularly. It happened every time she bought a new diamante engagement ring for herself.
I went to an engagement party of a few friends years ago, one of the few I have attended, and the most distinct memory of the whole wedding extravaganza was the cake. I remember the cake as they unveiled it to the audience. It was a largely devout Christian crowd. The couple were young and the budget was tight. Knife ready, the top was revealed with the icing spelling 'ENGAGMENT'. Fuck, whatever the result of that mistake I just hope a few of the attendants remembered that. Certainly made me not want to be the marrying type. Did not mean I was not the type for commitment. More a side note than anything else. I had to add that sentence because I felt I was rambling and accidentally revealed something that would cast a different light on how I am. Read into it what you want. What the hell am I telling you for.
Shit. So this lady was a darling. She kept the house together. She was a funny lady at that. Knew how to insult. Pigs Bum. Up your socks. Both favourites of hers. I wanted to tell her. Wanted to tell her that I had split with my girlfriend. I was sorry if I was an asshole or rude working with my client in her group home. I was just heartbroken some.
She told me that's alright. I'll make you happy!
No lady. But thank you, you're a sweetheart.
I know something that would cheer you up. I'll show you a picture of my baby. That will cheer you up!
Against all odds. Pulled out a New Idea folded to the spread. Turns out she had given birth to Prince George. Good stroke of fortune that one. Good breeding.