Saturday 11 September 2010

The Emotional Morgue

I was strolling down Broadway today, when I saw a man I'm reasonably certain was my ex-husband. We looked at each other and said nothing. I kept walking.

It didn't really affect me, except to remind me of the strangeness of the situation. While things got ugly shortly after the divorce, there's no longer any particular animosity between us; there's just a complete lack of interest. It's odd that people who were once in love and shared their lives for 7 years, now don't even recognize each other on the street. Even weirder is that I have a long list of people like that -- former best friends, exes, random folks I used to hang out with -- who I don't especially dislike, but who I have no desire to see or hear from. Evidently you'll know my emotional life by the trail of dead.

I don't tend to leave human interactions with a lot of drama or fanfare. I don't even leave with closure. I just leave. And stop caring. I'm more likely to walk away and never talk to you again than I am to keep in touch. Based on the reactions of those left behind, I don't think that's normal.

People seem to take that personally, especially since I never have any particular reason for walking away. I just periodically move on. I swear, it's me. I'm the one who's dead inside; you're just dead... to me.

The upside is that I really appreciate the people who I keep in my life, and genuinely want them around. There's no pretending or freinemies, kept in the name of politeness or tradition. Maybe that's weird too, but too bad. It's part of why I'm awesome.

And dead inside. Shrug.

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