Tear In Your Hand

I'm at my desk, it's ten AM, and already my bitch of a boss has managed to call me up and pummel my self-esteem into meatball size pieces with her choice words about my performance, or rather the lack of it.

I put Tori Amos on, it's been a few years, and somehow i've never been able to get myself back into that amorous phase of fascination and semi-worship of words that back then made perfect sense. Now i just listen and take out a dictionary.

Except this one song: Tear In Your Hand. Whenever i listen to it, i think of that day, almost four years ago, when i went to Basata with a girl i thought was my best friend but turned out to be a bipolar psychotic bitch (and that's the polite description). It was after i'd broken up- wait, let me rephrase that, it was after i'd been dumped, and nothing destroys your self-worth more than being dumped by someone you secretly believe is not good enough for you.

So i went to the beach for a few days, put Tear in Your Hand on replay, wrote in a purple notebook tangled thoughts about revenge, penguins, cats following me in the moonlight, big hands, and small hearts being broken.

And this song made absolute sense to me at that very moment:

"I think there are pieces of me you've never seen
maybe she's pieces of me you've never seen

All the world is all I am
The black of the blackest ocean
And the tear in your hand
All the world is danglin'...
Dangling'...Danglin' for me darlin'"

Right now at my desk, not doing the work i should be doing, not thinking about the boy who hasn't been here for a week and thus shown just how different my life is without him (note how i say different - not better, not worse, just slightly off-key), just remember that time of pure devastation.

Looking back, i wrote my best pieces then; Adrian, Gabriel, poems and poems and words kept coming out, as i sat at the wooden table in the hut, watched the afternoon Red Sea, as my best friend played with the cats and Tori kept on singing.
I had thought it was a safe bet, because he was a friend first before anything else, and we seemed to get along fine, i figured he'd never hurt me, at least never that bad, and only recently, four years later, have i been able to talk to him without wanting to vomit, laugh at his jokes, stare at his sweating forehead and wonder WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING, but still there is this strong disappointment that he let me down. He was my friend first, but somehow our friendship hadn't been worth saving.
And that still kinda hurts.

And i guess, in many ways, i am scared out of my tiny mind at the power this new boy has over me.
I still remember how it felt to get over someone who was half his worth. And if i do the math, that means twice the pain, twice the time, twice the self-worth torn to tiny shreds if things don't work out, and I wish i could escape that.

There are times when I kiss his eyes and think: "Bring it on, let all hell break loose, if it means this moment can happen again and again and again, I can take it."

But one week without him reminds me just how safe my life was before him, just how far i was from getting my heart broken again.
And only his presence can change my mind back.

Where THE Hell Is He?