Last night I cried. Like an 8 year old, who after 2 months without front teeth, finally fully re-grew the permanent ones, only to fall and knock them out.
It was a deep, gut-wrenching weep, like I haven’t wept in a very, very long time. In fact, I can’t even remember when or why I last wept in such a way.
The catalyst was watching United 93. A docu-drama about what happened to United Airlines flight 93. One of 4 planes hi-jacked on September 11, the only one not to crash into a building; instead crashing into an open field. It’s a very emotional recount of what happened on that flight.
My tears flooded uncontrollably when they showed the first scene where one of the passengers, having realised they are on a suicide flight and will die, contacted his wife to share this news with her.
As emotional as it was, normally, I guess, I wouldn’t have cried like that, but it had been an emotional day.
Earlier on, I had mentioned the fact to the Ex, that if I got a job in her hometown, I would take it, in order to be close to my son. She exploded. There was screaming, shouting, swearing and lots and lots of tears. And that was just her side of the phone.
Then later on, I had a heart to heart with K, about my feelings for her, and about how I felt about how I interpreted her actions. We both shared a tear, and then when I told her how I was thinking of going to Malaysia, we shared even more tears.
Then after all those tears going backwards and forwards I went home and watched that movie. It was just too much for my soft heart to handle.
So, things with K are ok. I might have portrayed her actions in a light which doesn’t truly reflect it’s meaning. A lot gets lost in translation. I love that woman. My Blog is also slightly biast, and of course, unfairly magnifies my slightest emotion. My Blog, to an extend, is fiction writing. My emotions are interpreted and coloured with words.
But, that other woman… well, she had made me decide against going to KK, not least for the fact that she threatened to run away with my son. “Anywhere but here”, she said. “Why do you want to come ruin my life?” As if that was on my agenda.
Of course, she is the Queen of KK and nobody may trespass into her kingdom without a royal letter with the official wax seal to validate it.
I have lots of poison to spit about that one and what I think of her, but I am not one to spend too much time on the black art of flaming. Unlike her, whom I’m sure have spread all my shortcomings far and wide in her precious, self-proclaimed kingdom.
She is in firm denial that she had anything to do what so ever with our split-up. With her it is as simple as me being unsatisfied with my job, family, career and the place I was living in, and I conveniently decided to just walk out. She refuses to believe, or even think, that she had anything to do with it. It was all me and my selfish emotions. Just me. That’s it. Dead-beat bastard.
If ever I write a book, it will be about my marriage to her and her denial. But, if it doesn’t drive her to suicide, she most certainly will never, ever let me see my son again.
But I digress. I have heart palpitations, headaches, and what not – and I know it’s stress related. I need to relax a bit about the whole thing and just let fate take it’s course.
What will be will be and blah blah blah.