A creeping sense of crumbling
[Written during the interval of an Efterklang gig.]
Next weekend, I’m going to visit Matte in the tree at the protest camp. I haven’t seen her since her party, thought we’ve spoken on the phone every week, or so.
I’m seriously considering breaking up with her. I still love her and I miss her a lot, and I know that she loves me and misses me a lot, but because I hardly see her, I think our relationship makes me sad more than it makes me happy.
I kind of want to do it before I see her. I’m worried that, once we meet, I won’t do it. And a part of me, totally bumbrainishly, wants to break up with her earlier just in case she breaks up with me first. That way, I will have power. An even smaller part if me has this vindictive notion that she will be left tumbling down to Abel’s end of the see-saw.
Fuck, I don’t know what to make of these small parts of me: the 10% sexiness I feel at the thought of her and Abel having sex; this thought of jumping off her steady polyamoury table to leave it wobbling monogamously.