This won't work. I'm going to just go ahead and say that it won't work. But I'm going to try. I'm going to try to write something. Even though I've really got to pee right now.

I used to have this thing. This delusion, I guess. Or maybe a psychosis. I thought it was just hope, but seeing as I was subject to delusions and psychosises, my opinion never held much weight. Not even with me.

That was circular reasoning, back there.

Also, I made that word up.

Regarding one particular, um, relationship, I used to think that things would be fine. That it was just a rough patch. That, as long as I stayed true, eventually I'd be treated nicely. It's been a long time since I've felt that way about that particular, um, relationship. After enough mistreatment, I began to expect the worst from every encounter. I lost that hope or delusion or psychosis or whatever. I expected to be shit upon.

Finally, I got to be right. Yay for me, I guess.

Now, there's another, um, relationship that's falling apart. And I find myself doing the same thing. I keep thinking that it will be okay. That this is just a rough patch. That we're way too close to let a little thing like this come between us. That, as long as I stay true, I'll be treated nicely.

So far, not so much.

I think it's a very sad thing, that what used to be so beautiful has been reduced to me waiting for hope to end.

Yes, indeed, it's a very sad thing.

Steeling myself. It won't be long now.

Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day. Anything after Tuesday would be a miracle, I think.

There's nothing I can do, except wait for the inevitable, and prepare to mourn.

I’m getting so sick of my phone, specifically of the typos it throws into every email or text message I type. It’s “door massage” and ”Smands” taken to epic proportions. Luckily, I pretty much only send messages to RockGirl and StupidGirl these days, and they’re probably used to my typos.
 
Or maybe they think I’m retarded. I certainly hope not. At least I don’t have to write typo-free with my entire professional reputation on the line with everything I type. One time, I tried to help with something along those lines. My help was ignored, so screw it. I’m not doing it anymore. If certain people want to look like idiots, that’s their business.
 
This damn phone, though. I usually type with the touchscreen. The slide-out keyboard is much too small. So I use the touchscreen. Problem with that is, it’s not an iPhone, so the touchscreen is kinda crappy.
 
I’m bored at work, in case you didn’t already guess as much.

So, this lady died. Anyone reading this site is likely to either know exactly who I'm talking about, or to have no idea who I'm talking about. Not really relevant whether you knew her or not. Only relevant that she was a true fixture at Rich O's, and she up and died on us.

Almost immediately after her death, the petition for beatification started making its rounds. It's still making its rounds. That's what happens when people die. They're suddenly the greatest person who ever lived, and everyone I mean everyone is devastated that they're gone. Because they were so great, and stuff.

So the poor huddled masses left behind, they want to do something to honor and sing the praises of the person that lived, so that maybe that person wouldn't seem quite as dead. I mean, memories certainly outlive people, may as well let them be good memories, right?

Right? Even at the cost of honesty?

Part of it might be because of guilty conscience, part of it might be because of the glaring reminder of our own mortality, and a lot of it is simply going with the mourning flow. Mostly, I like to think, it's because people are genuinely decent at their cores. Most people, anyway.

This lady who died, she was very nice. She was very friendly. She was also quite pushy at times, and a gossip most of the time. There, I said it. I think she managed to piss me off more over the last couple of years than not, prying as she was so wont to do. I think she managed to make as many people feel uncomfortable as she made feel welcomed.

For the last couple of years, my own interactions with her were reduced to simple hellos and goodbyes. Any deeper discussion was off limits between us, and eventually she figured that out and stopped pressing.

Nobody's perfect. Not even after they die. This might be cold, but it's also true. And the lady who died, she was smart enough and certainly honest enough to know it. She would hold no ill will towards me for the words I write tonight. She'd appreciate them, for they're clearly neither empty praise nor pointless parroting.

That place, Rich O's, has certainly changed a lot over the years that I've been going there. Then, a couple of Thursdays ago, it changed a lot more. Like I told her son at the informal wake the night of the funeral, Rich O's will never be the same again.

The world is a worse place now than it was a couple of weeks ago. I can't always say that, but I can say it now.