Even the VCR.

On my way home from work last night, I stopped by a Micheal's Arts/Crafts stores and wandered about the aisles, looking for something. I didn't know what, but something in me needed to make something, something different. So as I'm passing by the large wall of canvases, I notice a stack of long rectangular 12" x 24" blank white canvases. They needed some color, and they needed to be on my walls. So I scoured the surrounding aisles and claimed some new brushes, some nice shades of sage and 'sandstone' paint, and the other little essentials. I didn't know exactly what I'd paint, and I've never painted on canvas before...but it just seemed right. My new thing by the way is just 'doing' when something seems right, rather than thinking about it and pulling apart every aspect of it and in the end doing nothing.

So it's nearing 9pm, and it's D-Day. What's at 9pm?

Dennis gets out of work. I had tried emailing his roommate to find out if he'd be home for me to drop off some of Dennis's stuff, but he didn't want to be pulled into the middle of all of it. So I emailed Dennis. Something that seems to bring me nothing but pain right now, mostly because the emails back and forth make it seem like we're still together. The same flirty emails, the same conversations about nothing that last forever, the same heartache every time.

So I start to feel a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomache, maybe seeing me will make him realize how much he misses me. Maybe seeing me will make him realize that he made the right decision. Either way, it had to end last night. The foolish games of me pretending that I can be just friends with him, and that everything is okay...it had to end. I don't know what's going through his head, especially since he seems to jump around the topic anytime that 'us' comes up - for some reason, it always ends up with him saying, "you need to focus on you". Since when did this all become about me? He's the one that had the issues with not being able to work around his damn job at Comcast. He's the one that decided to end it without talking to me about his feelings first.

So it's 9:05, I'm covered in splotches of paint, and my coffee table has been conquered by the drop sheets, somewhat damp canvases covered in a light finish of sand, bottles of paint and my kitten trying to bat at the strings holding everything down.

My heart stops when the knocking sounds eminate from the solid apartment door. It's do or die.

So I let him in, he's wearing the shirt that he had on the first time we met. There's no direct eye contact, I'm afraid to look into his eyes because he may see right through me and know what I'm thinking. He keeps his eyes darting around to whatever new things have found a new home in my tiny little 4th floor world. He tries to break the slight tension with his off beat humor, but tossing me the pizza ad that was sitting on my mat. He wanderes in, asks where the new kitten is, so we look in my room. Scooter was face first in his food bowl like usual, sees that we're admiring his tiny little figure and trots right on over to Dennis's leg.

I'm covered in paint, so I head into the kitchen to wipe off the excess, planning to sit down with him to talk about how I feel.

He asks where the stuff he's supposed to be picking up is at. So I hand him his old VCR and an old Game Cube game, there's some idle chit chat, then he heads right for the doors. A loud voice in my head yelled at me to make him turn around, but the words couldn't get past my lips. And with that, he said that his roommate was being needy about needing dinner, and left.

It felt like a stranger just left.

I miss him, I miss what we had. But I can't continue to keep a false hope that he's coming back. If anything, his cold appearance at my apartment told me that right now, if ever, is just not our time. So I put my thoughts out there with my key board and instant messenger.

It's been left at that. It's going to stay left at that. He'll never miss me unless I'm actually gone, so I need to let him feel what life is like without me in it. One day, he'll roll over and wonder "why did I let her get away?", and I can't promise that I'll be around to comfort him with kisses.
The blank canvas that I've been feeling like, has just gotten some color. Right now it's just a primer coat, but I have a feeling that a masterpiece is on it's way.