Apparently, Life agreed I must have been too boring for my own good, so It decided to spice things up with a run-in by the emotionally unsettled, forever-scary ex-boyfriend and a panic attack on the subway this morning.
What can I say? I freaked out.
I haven't seen the guy in at least three years. The last real memories of him I have are his being escorted out by (or thrown into. I don't know, wasn't there) an ambulance from the high school we went to, and being asked would I like to file a restraining order. He never did anything to me physically, although most of the time his fists and clenched teeth made it clear he might have wanted to if we lived in a world where there were no consequences, yet when it was more likely I could have run into him at any time, I'd cross streets or turn corners to avoid him. Today I couldn't have done anything but sit there with a face full of the I Just Ate Something Awful look while we made actual, human, idle chit-chat.
I first noticed some kid with full sleeves of assorted tough-guy tattoos standing in the middle of my subway car, from behind. He moved over to lean against the doors diagonally across from where I sat and I glanced up at his face. I kind of felt the Oh, No in my stomach followed by the It Can't Be's in my head, before I fully recognized him. For less than a split second we made eye-contact, and I put my stare to the floor because hey, look, it's my sneakers, how lovely. When I see a second pair of sneakers come into view, I look up because now I guess I have to. He didn't look like he was going to reach over and steal my soul, but then again, crazy people... it's kinda hard to judge their next move. He asks if I went to Art & Design High School. I say Yes, while sinking into six years ago. We talked about unimportant things and it was civil. Before he got off at his stop, he even apologized for y'know, the whole insanity-thing.
Once he was gone, I actually looked around to make sure he really did leave the train. Then I couldn't really breathe and didn't want to cry. I didn't know what else to do, so I went to work but unfortunately blew in there like a madwoman. After an hour's worth of therapy with my boss, I went to my father's house just because.
Nothing else really feels like Am I Honestly Going to Pass Out Here, At the Fifth Avenue Subway Station?
It was lousy, all of it. I fear drama like I do cockroaches and spiders, and this was dramatic. And actually seems incredibly, ridiculously stupid.
What can I say? I freaked out.
I haven't seen the guy in at least three years. The last real memories of him I have are his being escorted out by (or thrown into. I don't know, wasn't there) an ambulance from the high school we went to, and being asked would I like to file a restraining order. He never did anything to me physically, although most of the time his fists and clenched teeth made it clear he might have wanted to if we lived in a world where there were no consequences, yet when it was more likely I could have run into him at any time, I'd cross streets or turn corners to avoid him. Today I couldn't have done anything but sit there with a face full of the I Just Ate Something Awful look while we made actual, human, idle chit-chat.
I first noticed some kid with full sleeves of assorted tough-guy tattoos standing in the middle of my subway car, from behind. He moved over to lean against the doors diagonally across from where I sat and I glanced up at his face. I kind of felt the Oh, No in my stomach followed by the It Can't Be's in my head, before I fully recognized him. For less than a split second we made eye-contact, and I put my stare to the floor because hey, look, it's my sneakers, how lovely. When I see a second pair of sneakers come into view, I look up because now I guess I have to. He didn't look like he was going to reach over and steal my soul, but then again, crazy people... it's kinda hard to judge their next move. He asks if I went to Art & Design High School. I say Yes, while sinking into six years ago. We talked about unimportant things and it was civil. Before he got off at his stop, he even apologized for y'know, the whole insanity-thing.
Once he was gone, I actually looked around to make sure he really did leave the train. Then I couldn't really breathe and didn't want to cry. I didn't know what else to do, so I went to work but unfortunately blew in there like a madwoman. After an hour's worth of therapy with my boss, I went to my father's house just because.
Nothing else really feels like Am I Honestly Going to Pass Out Here, At the Fifth Avenue Subway Station?
It was lousy, all of it. I fear drama like I do cockroaches and spiders, and this was dramatic. And actually seems incredibly, ridiculously stupid.
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
glad everything's ok now tho.