on the eve of the wide open new

i just read 'running with scissors' in one sitting. it took 2.5 hrs. the sky was light and the wind was blowing rain sideways when i entered the bookstore. i sat in a horribly uncomfortable chair in the upstairs area, one of my secret little nooks in this fair city, and when i left the sky was pitch black. the lavatory at elliott bay is rather sinister: exposed brick, tanks suspended several feet above the toilets, the pipes making a panting sound. the light by the blurry mirror has the dim quality of an old trailer. my eyes looked like i'd been crying.
tonight is a somber one. i feel completely fucking alone here, simultaneously recoiling from the options i have for possible company. i get giddy about revisiting anchorage but also know that it will only depress me further: the sobering sameness on one hand, the things i wish were the same utterly altered on the other. one can never go home again. but this doesn't fucking feel like home either. i don't know what would, or what ever has.
i feel like a fucking island.
the divorce is finalized tomorrow. this is just another fucking death in a week of fucking death. to admit how much more fucking cynical and devastated i am, especially in legal, public terms, is so GODDAMN TRAGIC. i want to trust simply and wholly again. i don't want to slog through friends who just want me around when they need something, be it my sympathy or covering a shift at work or a pity fuck. but the years pass, everyone gets older, and everyone else gets progressively more disillusioned too. jesus christ, this is so fucking depressing.
one thing that will always stick with me about t: he hated it when i called it 'fucking.' 'it should only ever be making love' he would say. early in the relationship i would roll my eyes at what i percieved to be his prudishness. and maybe it is. but it sets a damn good precedent. if only it was a likely standard to obtain. in a completely fucked up way, perhaps he was my last chance. and these are the thoughts that sadden me now. i know better, i really do. but i didn't marry him at one point in my life because i thought he was a dickhead. i honestly believed that it was the best decision i could have made. and it wasn't. and i am fucking pissed off and disgusted and hurt and every other nasty black emotion about it, and i particularly hate being reminded of all these fucked feelings afresh after months of not contemplating much about it at all.
...the freshness is the worst part. i thought this was a done deal.
once loved, always loved... even if i can't stand them.
the book was good overall. parts of it were a bit trite. i had already read the 'expose' in vanity fair about the falsehoods and discrepancies, blah blah blah, but if regarded liberally, yeah. and my favorite line in the book, one of those things you read at precisely the right time: "before was only there so after could happen."
and thinking about that, everything else i just wrote seems a lot simpler, a lot more optimistic, and almost hovers on a sliver of sense.
and while i was inside for those many hours, it stopped raining.