09:02 p.m.

purge
I guess I felt like crying tonight because I found myself thinking about you. wandered my way into the folder of emails I still haven't deleted, all with the from:you to:me fields. and this feeling, this tone of voice that comes with the memory of you when you weren't hiding anything gets lodged in my brain and I just can't shake it loose.
I feel like I'm falling apart. like this has been the summary of a chapter that I didn't fully comprehend when I was reading it. everything I try to type sounds trite. nothing is as beautiful as you could make it sound when you were just being honest and upfront and not editing every single word.
overlapping all this is a sense of guilt for wanting you when I have someone else. I didn't used to feel guilty about such things. am I regressing? what I started with you, this need for "settling down," this desire to have only one person, seems to be doing me in. I can't have all that I want and need. no one person can embody it. isn't that why I quit with monogamy in the first place? so why do I keep dating monogamous people?
oh. right. selfishness.
but. all this came pouring back to the surface one week ago when we saw each other again. did you know that I'd forgotten how gorgeous your eyelashes were? it seems inconsequential (it is) but it isn't. I forgot about your fingers and your arms and the way you stand. I forgot all about your neck. everything I'd buried has been coming back, all zombie memories hovering over me and devouring my brain. I can't talk to you about it. it would just make it worse. I can't talk to her about it because that would make us worse. all I can do is write. here. because there's a chance you'll read it and understand and know the impact you have had.
like I said, I wish you could know just one iota of how amazing you are, so it could carry you on. I love you and that love isn't wasted. I miss you so much I can't feel anything at all most times.
in a couple weeks it will be a year since I talked you into trying me on for size. how'd I fit?

Monday, April 17, 2006

11:43 a.m.

blather
I miss you.
that's no surprise, it isn't anything new. it just hurts more for some reason this time. the thread connecting us is getting frayed and worn and I worry it will break soon.
the future that could have been our's still plays through my head. I can't make it stop. I can't feel anything. I had panic attacks this morning because I just couldn't feel anything else. there are welts on my thigh from where I kept the panic at bay; there is stress rising to the surface. you are not the cause, you are a symptom. you are becoming something else. I miss you.
I'm so confused.
part of me says this is happening because you're not mine anymore; that I only want what I can't or don't have. this is partially true. another truth is that we really did get along well and we had the capability of making each other very happy. part of why I held on for so long was because I thought we could transcend the distance and the broken pieces and find a life together. I couldn't rise above it all. you could have, though. that's the story.
I miss you.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

11:44 a.m.

growing into one's name: or how I came to be a tugboat
last night in bed, I asked if she knew about my philosophy of relationships. I explained that I felt the worth of every relationship could be measured by how much I learned from the person I was with, be it friendship or acquaintance or significant other. when I found I could no longer learn from the other person, then for me the relationship was over. she was silent for a moment then told that it was sad I felt that way. she didn't think I could learn from her.
but I have, I have learned that I am beautiful and that it's ok to realize that. I can admit it to myself. I have learned that it is good to be myself. I have seen her leading by example. there is so much further to go.
I told her how the positive changes in their lives that my exes have made have only happened after I left them and I wasn't sure how to take it. in tears I postulated that it was because I held them back. she proposed that it was actually that they didn't realize what they had when I was with them and once I was gone, they longed to get me back in any way they could.
like always, I feel the truth is somewhere in the middle.
years ago I joked that, in the theoretical sea of love, I was the tugboat taking the barges from place to place. I have grown into the name I took from that time by doing just that: taking otherwise slow-moving people and hurtling them elsewhere. now they are joining the peace corps and working out their neurosis and arriving to work on time.
it goes deeper than that. it always does. I'm at an impasse, unsure of how to take a love that can't stay. I miss him so goddamn much but most of the time I can smother the feeling in the avalanche of her. she says she's never been in love with someone who loves someone else. I told her I never stop loving. I still love every person I've ever been with. it doesn't end. "the way you talk about him is different."
he didn't hurt me like the others. not the same way. I don't know how to reconcile a love that pinched but didn't break the skin. no blood, just bruises that turn to yellow but won't fade away. every time I'm reminded of all he could have been, I lay down and cry. everytime he shows me how things could have been, if only we weren't so broken, I sob until I'm empty. I'm empty.
I know I'll recover. I always do. always have. always will. this is another chapter, another body of water to cross, another barge to drop off. I make it sound so cruel and indifferent because there's no other way to say it. I hurt her last night just to get the truth out in the open. because keeping it in would have ended up hurting more. festering wounds and I don't get along so well, and I'd rather just get the infection ripped apart before it can take hold. I'd rather have the pain now than let it boil to the surface later.
she is everything I need now, when I need it. not the things I needed at a past date at a time when they can only hurt. it hurts to admit that but it's the truth.
I know he'll read this. I know it will hurt because he's just doing his best and that's never enough because his best is three months too late, or six months or nine months. didn't we have it right for a summer? weren't we goddamn incredible?
there is part of me that still harbors dreams of us. there always will be, until reality taps it on the shoulder and shows it all the detective photographs of a life that can't be. black and white and grainy but just enough detail to make out the truth. I won't say what that is. it still hurts too much.
brutal honesty. I don't need more bruises right now. I'm coping with the ones I've been giving lately. there's a girl I touch like I used to touch him, and I've made her flower too and now I need to tend that bloom before it falls away too. never thought I'd find someone who could get it right. if I could somehow splice parts of his brain into her, I think there's nothing more in the world that I'd need. I'll have to be satisfied with what I have though; two loves that have to change in order to endure.
letters in a book a moment too late; a last kiss given three months in advance; a relationship at the wrong time; effort and effort and effort. he won't ever know all that I put into him, all that I held back, and all that I gave. that's ok. I'm sure the feeling's mutual.

Sunday, April 9, 2006

08:25 p.m.

where it began
the first time we hung out, she picked me up in her roommate's car while wearing pajamas. I'd been prepared to walk to her house but when I called she said it was silly for me to walk. she pulled into my driveway and my heart just wouldn't stop running away with me. I had a container of chili and no expectations.
we lay in her bed for hours. I wanted to kiss her so badly but I was frightened. I took her hair down and stroked it, despite her faint efforts to get me to stop. tension grew as we small-talked and touched each other in subtle ways. who kissed whom? what started it? we made minor confessions and she said "I don't want sex. I just want to touch you."
I spent the night because I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her.
I've spent every night since then with her, even when she's in her own bed and I'm in mine.
she picked me up in pajamas and never left.

Friday, April 7, 2006

05:27 p.m.

oh, the ex, oh you.
my bookshelf brings back memories. maybe that's why I still haven't reorganized it. today I found a polaroid of you, undated. uncharacteristic of me to not date a photograph. I forget everything, why forget a date?
it was near the end. you were sitting at my table, hair short, no beard, hand on your forehead. I miss those moles on your cheek and your long fingers. I'd already misplaced them in my memory until the tears slapped my eyes when they saw the photograph.
there you are, looking annoyed and complacent. there you are, awkward and beautiful. the story of our relationship, all gleam and grunge. tarnished and perfect.
I look forward to you calling me. I miss your voice more than I've ever missed anyone else's. I miss laying in bed with you Sunday morning, knowing one of us is going to leave soon and not wanting that time to come. wishing I could just keep you near me and not have to surrender you to the long car drive home. I miss the butterflies in my stomach. I miss your arms. I miss every imperfect thing about you; everything you hated and wanted to change. I miss your eyes. I miss you looking at me.
and here's the bitter part: you never looked at me enough anyway. for all the times I caught you staring there were ten times I didn't because you weren't looking at all. you've held your entire life inside yourself all wrapped up in boxes. am I in one now? am I a pretty box all wrapped with a bow, marked "do not open unless in case of melancholy?" do you take Boston out when you are lonely? do you remember the dumpster in Wrentham? or the time I beat you at mini-golf because I wore a skirt and corset? how about when I used to have panic attacks and I punched the wall and you did nothing? or when I paced in the snow, crazy and unable to calm down? I flushed all of your cigarettes down the toilet. do those memories go in a different box so as not to taint the good?
we never went to pennsylvania; you never read me children's books in bed. we didn't see longwood gardens or go to the west coast. I was going to be everything to you and you were going to fulfill me but we forgot a vital ingredient. ourselves.
it's so easy to make plans for a future that's only fantasy. I thought I was escaping that with you but instead I just perpetuated it. you were going to save me. I was going to save you.
maybe we did a little anyway. just not how we planned.
I miss you. not sex or kissing or anything like that. I just miss you. I miss talking to you. I miss being your friend. I miss holding you. I miss being there for you emotionally.
and if you read this, well, I hope it soothes more than pains you. if you don't read this then at least I got it out of my system. this is how I've always done things. binge and purge, baby.
binge and purge my love.

Friday, March 24, 2006

06:42 a.m.

sex and love
I like it when you rake your nails across my throat, down to brush my clavicle. I like the way you moan when I'm finger fucking you, and the way your breasts bounce. I like it when you grind yourself into my mouth and hold my head there as you spasm. I like your eyes, every time I see them, mischevious and teasing and loving and beautiful. I like looking at your arms -- both the muscles and the tattoos. I like looking at you.
I find comfort in your warmth and softness. I love your nudity, verbally and physically, when you're holding me and telling me about your hometown.
I love you, and all that loving you entails.
let's do this right.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

10:51 p.m.

anxiety 101
I feel weird.
maybe it was the wording or maybe it was me being tired or maybe it's a combination of a plethora of factors but-- I think my perspective changed tonight. and I don't think it was for the best.
I am not sure how to feel but for the first time I was anxious to get home and get out of the car and just be alone for a while. I hope this passes. sooner rather than later. like maybe by tomorrow.
I could use a good dream tonight. I could use some real perspective.

Sunday, March 5, 2006

03:19 p.m.

broken resolution
"it's not love, it won't be love," I wrote.
well. I was fucking wrong. I didn't think I could fall in love with a meat-eating, smoking, drinking, christian but apparently I have. somehow those words mean nothing, they are nothing compared to what else she is. thoughtful, beautiful, caring, gentle, comfortable. I want to stay excited about this. I want to not think about things, to just let them be, to be ok with the world and my place in it. I want to fall asleep in her arms and not wonder if she'll be there in the morning. or if she'll be there again the next night. I want to not worry about it.
I don't want jealousy. I don't want pain. I didn't even want love but it's awfully nice to have.
I want her lips on my fingers and her arm around my waist and her smile always ready when I see her.
I want to look at her and realize she's already looking at me.
I want photographs and good memories.
I want everything without having to want it.
let's just be for a while and see where it takes us.
somewhere good, I hope.

Thursday, March 2, 2006

03:02 p.m.

part of the truth
I looked at your dad and I saw you.
not just physically, though that was a very large part. it was like looking into the future. that could be you. maybe it won't be. maybe you getting help now will keep that from happening to you. maybe you going back to college will put you in a career you won't regret. maybe. maybe.
I wanted to run away the first time I met him and I kept seeing you in his face. it was so clear. and the days I spent under his roof, the jokes, the eating, the everything; it was you you you. I saw his stamp all over your life.
and the truth is, I didn't want that. yeah, that's not all of it. your lack of comfort in everything you did, your constant self-editing, the doubt, the distance (emotionally and physically), your inability to ever open up to anyone -- even yourself. you filed things away mentally but I needed physical proof that we existed to you. I know it was only a few months ago but it seems like years now. you're so far away.
I still think I'll hear from you. sometimes I'm relieved I don't. just because we're not together it doesn't mean I don't love you. just because we didn't work out it doesn't mean I don't care. just because I have someone else it doesn't mean I don't wonder if you're ok. but I don't want to take the first step anymore. I don't want to open myself up to disappointment.
every time I looked at you.

Thursday, March 2, 2006

01:54 p.m.

frozen fingers, numb toes
I like fucked up teeth and broken new year's resolutions. I like girls that hold my hand in public and kiss me in empty doorways. I like finding what I didn't know I needed and slowly breaking down my walls. I like destroying. I like rebuilding. I like creating. I like acknowledgment.
I like taking something impossible and trying to make it work, against all odds. I don't want to lose this time, please don't let me lose this time.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

02:17 a.m.

she gives me what you wouldn't. or couldn't.
I keep thinking about you randomly. it still hurts. it will for a long time. I still think you'll write something. but I don't think you will. valentine's day would have been a good symbolic day to make an effort. too late now.
it's always too late.
but I think this could heal things.
maybe.
maybe I'm just being optimistic. regardless, it's a welcome change.

Friday, February 17, 2006

11:51 p.m.

this is the part where I get all flustered and feel the tables tilted (not turned, not that far yet). something alluded to that might mean a song was picked about me, or a comment posted was in reference so me? that's downright unheard of.
let's be vague.
no one's ever done that before. written about me in a public forum, even vaguely. if they did, it was so vague I didn't catch the reference.
it feels good. fuck. it feels goddamn fantastic.

Friday, February 10, 2006

12:07 a.m.

not my valentine.
I fell asleep in the car with my head on her chest, listening to her sing along to ipod songs. I heard her cigarette-clogged breath rattle in her lungs and I felt momentary worry. but her soft voice lulled me and I dozed.
when I woke, not realizing I'd slept, I opened my eyes and saw her staring steadily at me. later she said "it was cute the way you fell asleep on me in the car." or something to that effect.
every time she shows emotion it's like an electrical shock.
I feel so fucking blessed to have found this. it's not love, it won't be love, it just is.
I'm pretty sure this is what I've wanted all along. someone to say what's on their mind. someone to hold me and be content. someone who expects nothing from me and owes me nothing. someone to just be.
I hope I can maintain this.
I hope this lasts long enough to make an impact.

Wednesday, February 8, 2006

04:03 p.m.

it isn't spring yet
"something about you..." she murmured as we moved against each other. I didn't question it, I didn't want to bring up the fact that I'd heard her. but I did. and I took it to heart.
there's something about me that makes people let go. I don't know what it is. they don't either. but I hold onto these feelings so they can carry me to the next moment. I hold onto her smell and the feel of her neck beneath my lips. I need this right now, more than anything.
it had been months since I slept with someone as soundly as I did with her, in her arms, in my arms. and when we woke up she said, "I'm glad you stayed."

Sunday, February 5, 2006

02:03 a.m.

look. here's the deal. all my fears are coming true. why couldn't you prove me wrong? why couldn't you call me? what if you did, and I just didn't answer?
why are our wires always crossed, why did we short circuit months ago when it seemed for a while that you were all that I needed?
I don't want you to self-destruct.
and I don't want to, either.

Saturday, February 4, 2006

07:05 a.m.

always unfinished
sitting in the dark with a room full of strangers, listening to a love poem that said everything you should have said to me. I didn't cry, but I came close.
where were your words when we were together? why did I need them so badly?

Friday, February 3, 2006

06:44 a.m.

this is ironic.
I am
so proud of myself for not calling you
-after I started sobbing uncontrollably last night because I was thinking about how tenderly you used to kiss my forehead after we had sex.
-to tell me a story when I started having a panic attack
--and I started to rake my nails across my wrists
---and slap my own face to keep the anxiety at bay
----and when it kept rising, I still didn't call you, I just plugged in the phone to charge until I could get a hold of myself
-----which I finally did.
I am
so proud of myself
-for rationalizing out my anxiety and for burying my pain for another day. my doubt has been blacklisted. it cannot show its face around here.
I am so proud of myself for not giving in. for not calling you. for not admitting weakness.
until now.
I am so proud of myself.

Thursday, February 2, 2006

08:08 p.m.

vague anger
I remember how once, in a rage, you demanded to know how I dared to make accusations of you. I calmly recounted the reasons, to which you had no reply. every time I would visit, I would see the physical manifestations of my verbal response.
you told me I didn't know your eating habits, I couldn't know whether or not you were eating vegan. why then was it that every time I visited, your roommates and neighbour would offer you non-vegan items, as though it was expected for you to take them? you discussed things you made that had eggs in them. you didn't have soy milk when I would visit.
you do not always notice little things, but I do. I did. I remembered the freckles under your eyes and the moles on your skin. I remembered the softness of your earlobes and the curve of your eyelashes. the way your hands would stiffen and tighten on my waist when I moved against you just right. I noticed these small things. I noticed things you said and did. I noticed reactions, your's and those of the people near you.
maybe I had no right to make accusations, but you had no right to treat me like I was ignorant. or to pretend you didn't do certain things. to hide your actions. to close yourself off from me. to deceive me, or be dishonest through omission.
I noticed things. it isn't a sixth sense. it's just being observant.
I wish you had tried it more with me.

Monday, January 30, 2006

10:01 p.m.

who walks the line?
his eyes reminded me of your's for some reason. I spent the entire movie staring at them, contrasting and comparing. the colour of your's was richer, the shape more pleasing, the lids heavier, the eyelashes longer. but something in the expression was the same. that slow, patient, waiting; barely masking a deep and continual pain.
something about the way he blinked. I was in your bed, head on your shoulder, looking up at you. you looked down at me. I have the picture to prove the most beautiful thing about your gaze. I have the memory to recall your mostly closed eyes gazing at me. like the way you kiss, not wanting to break away. not wanting any moment to end.
I learned more about you in person looking at your silent eyes than I ever learned on the phone, dragging out every conversation. you said more with your pauses than you did with your carefully placed words. stepping between your lines I found phrases you didn't mean to let slip through. occasionally I make you say them anyway. I'll tell you what I mean to you.
I mean more to you than almost anything else ever has. perhaps more than anything else ever will. alcohol and nicotine and video games pale in comparison to what I gave you because what I gave you didn't come from external sources.
it came from you. and you could give back. and that felt good.
I saw it in your eyes, when you would look at me. when you were unmasked and unarmed and completely helpless before me. but like always, I held a piece of myself back. I wrote you a long letter. did you read it? I made you a cd. did you hear it?
did you read between my lines? did you hear what I wasn't saying?
I saw you in someone else's eyes tonight.
I wish I'd been seeing you with mine.

Sunday, January 29, 2006

11:45 a.m.

just a random note
I remember the feel of your hands on my waist or my hips, pulling me to your lap. the look on your face, of desire, of need, of half-apology. it always amazed me that you were touching me. that somehow we'd both supressed our insanity enough and let down our walls and said hello emotionally to each other. it always amazed me that you could reach out and pull me to you. it never stopped being incredible. your hands never lost their fire when they touched my skin. I cannot say that enough times to make you understand. I never got tired of it.

Saturday, January 21, 2006

11:31 p.m.

more on the subject of
I guess it's too late now to admit that the things I spent the most time get frustrated over weren't worth the effort anyway. what does it matter to anything but my ego if you never took photographs of me? you remembered things I'd nearly forgotten, just as I can remember things about you that you've never even noticed.
it's also too late now to say that it wasn't your smoking that bothered me, it was your inability to control the desire to do so. but wasn't it a loss of control when I would straddle you and all logical thought fled your mind? weren't we constantly hounded by a lack of control every time we kissed and felt our hands uncontrollably drawn to each other? why did I always have to have the power? why couldn't I ever just let you be yourself?
we are half-people, completing each other. that was enough for you. but I remember what it was like to be a whole person on my own feet. I remember the sensation of having a purpose and of trying to follow that path. it wasn't all that long ago. we were losing our faith at the same time, the same year. these parallels are eerie but irreconcilable. the difference is that you were willing to hold onto me to feel the things you used to. I couldn't. I can't be held for very long before I need to escape and discover what it is I've been mising. what it is I lost.
I lost my determination. my flame has been dampened. I am giving in under the weight of survival. and I can't rely on anyone to dig me out. I know I said you couldn't save me, but I still believed you would.
just like I still thought I could save you from yourself, from your demons, from addiction, from just surviving. I hope I did something. I hope you don't forget.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

07:03 a.m.

the word I was looking for was 'compromise'
I cried last night like I haven't cried in months. not that volume, not that violence. I got dehydrated, my eyes puffed up, I wanted to call off work but instead I got up and went through the morning routine like I still had a heart and hope.
my head, delightful creature that it is, put dreams of him in my sleep last night. I woke up with that feeling, the one that always accompanies depression dreams. dreams from depression, not dreams of depression. and I missed him with this dull intensity; like wrapping a rock in cotton before you bludgeon someone with it.
I dreamt that I was in Amherst to visit but he was elsewhere. he wasn't there, not even where he lived. he was doing other things and was unwilling to put those off. he had to go to the dentist at midnight, and before we knew it, it was 10pm and he had no time to come see me before I had to leave. I said it was fine, even though he was the only reason I'd gone there.
I feel that this is how it would have been for us to live together. he would always be busy and I would always be pretending to not be slighted.
I get tired of this line of thought.
I miss him. it hurts. I knew it would hurt. this is never easy. I want him to hold me. I don't know when that's going to happen again. I can't keep torturing myself.
someday this could be the right thing. someday it could be the best thing. but right now it just hurts.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

07:17 a.m.

when I find myself missing you all I have to do is remember all the times you didn't take pictures of me and even if you had, how you would not have shared them with other people. it hurts, temporarily overwhelming the pain of not having you.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

11:28 p.m.

a little passive-aggressive, a little bit already known
you're not really around. and I don't know why I let this seem new to me. this is the way we have always been, with me wanting more and you just waiting. sitting. thinking. not doing.
I am caged, throwing myself against bars, ignoring the open door because what I want is on the other side of where I stand. I want the most direct route, I want the thing I see in front of me, afraid that if I take my eyes off it, then it will disappear.
you fear my disappearance, like if you stop gripping me then I would be gone. or if you touch me at all I will vaporize. we both lack equlibrium, the ability to neogiate or meet somewhere in the middle. whatever that word is. if you were here you would know it. but you're not. and that's the problem.
it isn't just physical distance.
the beginning of a relationship is supposed to be full of unknowns. but when those continue for months and months, something is wrong.
so for my new year's resolution, I resolve to no longer date people that are more insecure than I am, that are consistently depressed, and that I find myself being super neurotic around. the fact is that the people I hang around with directly influence how I act. so how do I want to act? certainly not insecure, depressed and neurotic.
I miss everyone I've ever met or been around. I shouldn't let that fact influence my actions.
let's see what happens now.

Monday, January 16, 2006

10:31 p.m.

two hours, two more, this is where we are
I can sob outloud with no tears to greet me. intake the breath and exhale grief. the last time I saw you, you were walking from the living room to the kitchen as I drove away. the image is frozen in my mind, almost identical to a photograph I took weeks ago. I see one hand raised, answering a question that hasn't been accurately posed. I see your eyes without glasses, your legs in motion but stilled by memory. you are talking but forever silenced by the distance between us. I hear nothing now.
you asked me if I'd thought at all about the situation, if I knew what I wanted. but I thought I'd never see you again so I'd spent the two hours dealing with that. when my ex dropped me off at my front door, I was fighting back tears. when he squeezed my hand I thought I would lose all composure, but instead I just lost my water bottle in the snow.
I spent the time thinking about the things you'd said. I thought about your eyes. I thought about how everything had changed, how I had felt so good the past two weeks and now wasn't sure if I felt anything at all. but I couldn't express that to you, not in words, so I let the awkward silence and your apologies fill me instead.
it's 44 degrees in my apartment and I would expect nothing less from tonight. I am filthy and I would expect nothing less from myself. you are more distant from me than ever before and I would expect nothing less. you said you couldn't do this anymore when I thought I could, but now that you say you can, I'm the one who's unsure.
I couldn't get the passenger side door open so I sat in the back on the way to my apartment. it seemed appropriate, for me to be sitting next to my baggage. for me to stare out the window and hold back tears. tonight I'll sleep alone, the same as every night. tomorrow I will wake alone, the same as every morning. I will come home to no one and no one will come home to me. some day this will seem common place. right now nothing feels normal or natural.
right now nothing feels right.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

06:30 p.m.

mouth to mouth
I would hate to be the thing that does you in (though I suppose it would be a pleasant way to die).

Thursday, January 12, 2006

01:48 p.m.

saturday afternoon ramblings on friday night thoughts and conversations
rubbing my back, my face in a pillow. he massaged muscles I didn't know were even sore until they were touched. then, "what's the tattoo on the back of your neck mean?" and I gave the most straightforward answer yet.
"I was married. that was my wedding ring." it is as true an answer as the one I usually give and with as much backstory. it felt better to say that, though. my wedding ring. I can never remove it. it is permanent, like so many things from that relationship. it is not regretted. it is just a constant reminder of how I gave up on the best thing I ever had.
I gave dry responses to the questions he asked me about the relationship. I said he wasn't a jerk, he was a good guy, I just couldn't trust him anymore. I don't know if that's true or not. I have dreams about the origin of my distrust, but they're warped and nearly unrecognizable.
I say we're still married because it's more complicated and more expensive to get a divorce. and that's part of the reason, sure, but there's also the tiny ember of hope that eventually neither of us will want the divorce. that somehow things will work themselves out again and the marriage will be rekindled. that we will both continue to change but it will be in ways that will mesh beautifully instead of ways that rub each other raw. and all the photographs in my sister's house won't have to be taken down. I won't have to erase his image from my memory.
but. that all seems so unlikely. it is another one of those daydreams I have that seems so perfect in my head but has no chance of working in life. I had it so good with him. for a while I knew it. discontent grows easily in the priveleged. I still don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know who I'm with.
or if I'm with anyone at all.

Saturday, January 7, 2006

06:58 a.m.

the situation as I see it
I realize now what I am doing. I don't agree with it nor do I wish to continue but sometimes once you're set on a course, it's hard to veer from it. I am self-destructing in slow-motion.
First I will push away the people closest to me so there will be no one to give me counsel. No one to comfort me, no one to save me. Then I will give up activities I adore; art, music, socialization. I will lock myself into myself and eat away my insides. When nothing is left, my shell will cave in and I will be done.
I can see that I am already alienating myself. It's already been happening. and it's been getting harder and harder for me to motivate myself to do anything. My self-esteem has been riding a see-saw and I'm pretty sure that any time now the pivot is going to break and I'm going to flatline at shit.
But this journal site is about love. Well, I am losing it. I lost my touch. I lost my knack. I still fall in love but it doesn't do what it used to. Love has become my latest and greatest self-destruction. I have tainted it. I don't know how to get better. I don't know how to stop.
I don't know what to do.

Wednesday, January 4, 2006

03:06 p.m.

the truth
I don't know anything.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005