last week when i wrote about things that no longer matter, i mentioned reflecting upon the past few months (the timeline of things) and realizing when i started spending time doing things that took a lot of time away from paying attention to my partner. well i've paid even more attention to that timeline, of piecing together the puzzle. it's kinda driving me insane with rage. rage at myself and at them.

of when some kind of fight happened so i didn't go to a party that they really wanted me to go to. i have no idea why i didn't go. i wasn't in the mood. i don't think i ever wanted to go but let her believe i would go. it's just one of those situations where i knew i wouldn't feel comfortable so i didn't want to go. she were very, very upset with me over this. i can't recall the exact day this was, but very soon after, that's when she went to the party and met him. she was probably so goddamn mad at me that she was swept off her feet by anyone who paid her attention. why didn't i go to that damn party? fucking hell. i could slap myself.

then to look at something i posted that same night on some web site. i see that i was up late and couldn't fall asleep and was bored home alone... meanwhile, she's at that party getting to know this guy. they both tell each other they live with their girlfriends and yet they still decide to go out. fucking hell! and to see that i posted how interesting it was that i've been living in the same place for so long but i'm not quite sure what to do with my life. and that i emailed her about my benefits at work as a way to encourage her to do like we had planned a long time ago, to get a job at where i work. to see how much (or how little) life insurance i had out on my life and she'd be the sole beneficiary. then to recall that she said they went out to dinner at one of our places. can i ever eat there again? and how she said she wanted to do this and that with him in the email. those were all our plans. or that they first kissed the day before we went on a "family" vacation! let the record show that i'm fucking pissed. i think my new place just might have a dart board. or a punching bag.