The truth can be a tricky concept, for example what exactly is a lie? Yesterday I promised I wouldn't do anything 'stupid' yet earlier this evening I did just that, so was I lying? I believed what I what saying at the time, there was no intent to deceive, but it wasn't the truth.

My girlfriend left me today, packed her shit and went while I was at work, sent me text to let me know. On the phone this evening she said she needed space and that maybe she might come back one day. I'm damn sure that's not true, but again she sounded like she believed it herself, so was it a lie?

Was dreading work today but things turned out ok. I'd been proved right in my absence and my boss was all smiles, as if nothing had happened. I guess I could have held a grudge but I was too relieved at the absence of palpable tension.

It's funny but yesterday, when things weren't going well at work, everything else in my life seemed insurmountably awful. Leaving work this afternoon after an ok day however I knew things still sucked but I told myself that I could see it through, that all the other problems would turn out ok just like work had. Was I lying to myself?

Tried so hard on the phone tonight, knuckles white on the reins of my temper and fear. Tell her how you feel, I thought, but phrase it right, don't give in to the petty urge to lash out, walk the line. My father always says communication is in the senses of the receiver. I've always taken this to mean that if I want people to get me I have to translate myself into a language they understand.

She didn't.

She's been out a lot recently, spending nights with friends etc. only really here when she had nowhere else to be. So many recent bus journeys home from work have been underlined with dread at the thought of spending yet another long, long night here utterly alone, you'd think I'd be used to it by now.

I finally realised that this was really happening, that she'd gone and there was nothing I could do about it. Oh she was crying, and I do believe she is genuinely upset about hurting me, but it suddenly started to dawn on me that from now on every night would be filled with those aching empty hours and that really scared me.

So yeah, I lost my temper, finally. Was I not communicating how I felt about her and our relationship effectively, or did she get it but just not care? Either way I just couldn't stand anymore frustration. I'm so sick of playing everyone else's game, of having to be what others think I should be just to get by.

Fuck them.

What's the point of me trying to pretend I'm mature and sensible and above violent tantrums when actually, that's how I feel? First off came the tears, great wailing sobs, keening at this fucking ache in my chest that won't go away.

The only thing that made this particular shameful breakdown different to any previous episodes was that, while my body and part of my mind was lost in hysterical misery, there was a part of me sitting just behind my eyes that was numb. I could here and even feel myself screaming and crying but felt utterly detached from it.

Wedged the key in the door to stop (her) anyone getting in, drew all the curtains, tore all the phones out of the walls and killed my mobile, smashed up one room then another and finally found myself back in exactly the same hole I was in a decade ago:

on the floor, in the dark, guzzling JD and slashing my arms with a thoughtfully sterilised razor while listening to Soundgarden.

Again there was a slight difference, that same weird feeling of partial detachment, a quiet corner of me that felt simply nothing, just watched the blood run as if it was some weird work of modern art. Not sure what this segmented numbness means or what it may lead to but I don't really want to think about it right now. An entirely bleak picture huh?

Well if I said that, it'd be a lie. I've spent so long fighting the urge to do that, to just give in and fuck myself up. I promised her I wouldn't do it because hurting myself was hurting her, but I guess that doesn't matter anymore. I promised myself I wouldn't do it because it wasn't the kind of person I wanted to be.

Laying there, the long forgotten feeling of wet holes going delicately crispy and uncomfortably stiff, that amazing voice tearing out those heart rending words, I felt free, just for a little while. I even found myself smiling. It wasn't healthy or constructive or pleasant, it was just me and in those dark, desperate moments I wasn't pretending anymore.

Of course it passed after a while. I changed the CD, fed the cat, dressed my wounds, tidied up, fed myself, plugged the phones back in and retrieved my mobile. Lot's of missed messages, but only from my Grandma. My Granddad died last year and her Alzheimer's is pretty bad now. She forgets she's rung so calls again and again to leave the same message.

I'm going to see her tomorrow, as I do every weekend I can, and she just wanted to check I was coming as she'd found a note in her diary (that she'd written,) to say I was. It tears my fucking heart out to see her like this but she needs me and I love her.

To be honest when I heard the new message tone I hoped it was my girlfriend, sorry, my ex, and even now I can't help checking my mobile every few minutes even though I hate myself a little more each time I do. I'm such a fool, why can't I just take a fucking hint!? With the adrenalin long since gone I'm left with the same old dull ache, albeit with the volume up yet another notch, and the same old tears I'm too tired cry.

I guess one thing we can definitely say is that this post, while true in content, is a lie. I've tried to present this as a relatively normal post, with a line of enquiry and examples to consider. The truth is I just have to get this out and I'm too embarrassed to ring the Samaritans or my friends.

Think I'll go to bed now, alone, again. I have nightmares when I sleep but it's still better than being awake. Wish I could have a smoke but I'm as dry as the Gobi desert and my regular dealer's not answering his phone. On top of this the random I met in the street the other day has his phone turned off so I don't even have Mary to keep me company now.

On a more practical note, I've just remembered that this PC is actually my ex's so when she comes back for the rest of her stuff it'll spell the end of my publishing deal. I can still blog from work I guess, though I'm always a bit paranoid about people reading over my shoulder and I only get half an hour for lunch. I'll sort something out I'm sure, I usually seem to.

I read a book once in which one character tells another a fable. Although it had a profound effect on me I forget the details, but the salient point was a simple yet powerful phrase: "this too will pass". It's an interesting one because while it is indisputably and absolutely true, when I let myself feel how I'm feeling, everything in me tells me it's a lie.