Metal

Sitting in my car as I type this:

Last night we're on the phone and I'm on the verge of tears and maybe she doesn't notice but she's telling me exactly what I need to hear and I know it all to be true because I believe these things about myself and what my value is but probably because I'm a pretty prideful person I don't want to make time for more truth and seeing as how one bad day has turned into two I really ought to own these little tidal waves of emotion and allow myself to feel hurt and sad and cry my eyes raw but as I said to her this doesn't happen to me because I don't make it a habit of developing anything with other people because usually [they're] not worth my effort and she says how perhaps this is different and I know it is but that doesn't mean much to me right now.

I think it's so stupid of me to feel bad. These things happen so infrequently. Call it what you will, I'm made of metal and I can't have anymore of it. And it creeps in from the edges of my days. I feel so foolish.

Maybe one good long cry and that will be that. Maybe that's what I'll do tonight.


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