I can't deal with this. I don't know what to do. What do you do when the bottom drops out of your world? I shouldn't have got angry. I'd had a shitty day. I just wanted to be at home. I was given the option to go home. But I didn't. And then I got all self-righteous angry over a miscommunication.

The silence is the killer. It's happened twice before. Third time's the charm 'ey? I like to imagine the worse. Every time there's an unknown, I imagine the worse possible scenario. There's a certain comfort in knowing it's never that bad. But what if one time it was? This time.

And silence. It doesn't convey a lot of information. As the silence went on, the angry came back a bit. Leaving messages, waiting for a call back. Resolving not to call, she'll talk when she wants to talk. Losing that resolve and calling again. Last two times the silence came, she ended up at his place to talk. This time, that's where she was. That got me irrationally angry. Stupid angry. So the chance I had to talk, as I drove her home, to apologise, but I wasn't ready to. And now I have the sinking feeling it's too late.

I don't know what to do.

Leaving messages on phones is all well and good. But now I wished she hadn't picked up - on the third time I tried today. I could have been blissfully unaware - continued on with my crappy day, and not realised exactly how crappy it was going to get until I got home.

Mornings are full of promise. I remember waking up and glancing over at her. So peaceful, so beautiful. I thought, everything's going to be OK. As the day goes on, doubts set in. Driving to work, imagining yourself turning the steering wheel a bit that way, and a tree ending your trip prematurely. Not to kill you as such. A couple of weeks in hospital would be a good rest. Nothing expected of you, and all the sympathy you can take.

But I am at work. I went out at lunch and bought a brush-pen thing. It's so cool. I rang to tell her. That was the second call attempt. To share my excitement, maybe break the ice, but it ended up being another strange answering machine message, clinically cut short when my time limit was up.

And now work goes on around me. People talking, joking, asking about business process diagrams, and why wont this run on that machine. Should I be getting in the car - driving home? Trying to stop her before she leaves? Would that not make it worse? She needs some time. I've wasted so much of it in my life. Staring at the ceiling of my bedroom on those nights when you just want the universe to split open a bit, so you can fall into the hole. Playing computer games until 4am. Whining about how "Life's just not fair!". And now time is going so slowly. Typing away into Notepad. I should go. I fear a confrontation. The thought of the house, empty, frightens me also. Nowhere I want to be.

And I'm worried about what people will think. So much of my psyche comes back to that. What will people think? I'm still so very fucked up. There's the family wedding tomorrow. I should go. Should I go? If I'm not there, questions will be asked. If I go - she'll be there. I can't deal. I'll probably hide. Go for a walk. Anything.

I don't know what to do. Maybe I should just go.

-----------

Well, I stayed at work. "Urgent" things were required of me. Time mooged on. But I did leave early. In the car is where the tears began, but it didn't really start until I pulled up in the driveway and the cat was waiting at the window. I fell apart. I got inside, put my stuff down. Some part of me hoping that she's still here - she's just on the computer, she's just having a nap. But then I saw the bare bedside table. I started going through the empty drawers. The fragile shell of denial broke. The cat went frantic with the noises I made. Noises he's never heard me make before.

I went fetal in the kitchen, after a fruitless search for a note. After I quieted down a bit, the cat came to check if I was normal again. At which point I broke out anew. I picked up the phone several times. What do I say? The one question I've been howling to walls of this little empty house; Why did you leave me? What did I do? I'm sorry.

But I keep putting it down again. She wants some time. I don't want to give it to her. I want her to be here now. I want to say I'm sorry. I want to say, let's get takeaway and watch Mutant X for a laugh.

I don't want to hurt this much.

I've been ignoring her I know. Spending too much time drawing or on the comic forums, when I'm not working. And I shouldn't have snapped the other night. I'm searching for reasons. Reasons swimming around my head. My stomach's growling but I don't feel like eating. Maybe things will be better in the morning? Problems aren't so big after you sleep on them, right? But she has slept on it - for two nights now. And I didn't make it any better in the meantime. And sleeping in that bed by myself - waking up by myself.

I'll call tomorrow. I just need to know why. I've got to kill 20 or so hours. What's she doing now? Where's she staying tonight? Is she talking with him again? Did he give her this idea? Stop being paranoid. Finding others to blame. I'm the one to blame.

I so tired. My face aches from crying. I'm hungry. I want to fall asleep and never wake up.

I don't know what to do.