Sorry. It’s the jazz music they pump in here... makes me feel like Carrie Bradshaw. Kellie likes JAZZ.
It all started with a book. It is officially High Fidelity’s fault. I have wanted to read, yet refused to read it, for years. I think I was always afraid it would validate my inability to be with Chris. (That’s his name... Chris. So much for protecting the innocent.)
I bought it last weekend. Chris’s adamant declaration that our relationship was irrevocably ruined forever; it’s time to just *give up* Kell... I guess it’s time to read it. There’s something about losing him that makes me into my worst possible self. I lose all dignity, get pathetic, lose my mind blubbering until I become a person *I* wouldn’t want to be around. I must somehow think this is going to help.
Anyways. One of my coworkers- is also going through a break-up. Leaving work yesterday, (Late, because *everybody* was stuck in the snow yesterday) I passed him making his way through the back hallways. I strike up a conversation with him coming down the loooong corridor about the book High Fidelity. We’re approaching each other, getting closer and closer; when we come face to face I mention he can borrow it when I’m done with it. And I notice- his eyes are completely bloodshot, his suit is rumpled, and he hasn’t shaved in days... He says- ‘I read the first 2 chapters of that book. Then I had to stop so I didn’t kill myself.’ He absolutely reeks of vodka. Fuck. His eyes start to fill with tears and his lips tremble and out comes- ‘I’m trying to work full-time, go to school full-time, and drink full-time... Kell, it’s not working.’ Fuck x2.
Oh hell- intervention time. (I feel that this is partly, somehow, halfways my fault as his ex is from Duluth and so am I. Don’t ask me to explain that). I drag him across the street to Embassy’s convenience store- we *seriously* need some altoids. About this time I realize how drunk he actually is. So we go outside (in the freakin’ snow emergency) to sober up. I keep passing him the little bottles of Scope, he keeps going on about not caring and learning to be apathetic- or rather, abruptly cutting off all the feelings you have for this other person. From here on out- poof! Gone... pruning the dead emotions. That’s when I saw it- *THE LINE*. He was on one side and I was on the other and I told him I didn’t think he was on the right side.
That’s when he crossed a different line.
He called me a loser. Holding on to something worthless. A. Loser. *Now- on a side note... I’m the first person who you’d sit next to on the bus or ask for some much needed change. I’m the least intimidating person you’ll ever meet. I’m freakin’ adorable. But when he said that to me... *Oh no you di’n’t.*
Conveniently provided by the city of Minneapolis was a beautiful, pristine snow bank located at *just* the right height. I grabbed a fistful of hair from the back of his head and smashed his face and shoulders directly into the snow. Guess what hun- you just got yours from a 100lb loser!
*That* sobered him up pretty fast- he was able to get to work and function- and I’m sure he’ll start speaking to me again any day now:) I don’t know if I was in the right- or totally wrong.
But I do know I’d rather be a loser than a quitter.
Get me?
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