the day after

I think I am done feeling like a sad sack. I realize in the light of new day that I am still loved by a man I still love, that i can wait longer than I thought I could, and no doesn't mean forever. I can't cry. I have to keep moving and not stop, there is too much to be crushed by if I stop for a minute. I am in my room packing, packing packing all my little pieces of 24 years of life away...outside the annual homeschool picnic is raging in my backyard...i have to smile at the memories as i watch little girls in jumpers and high socks running around the lawn...hard to believe it was ever me. I am leaving my childhood as I prepare to leave my home. I am thinking thinking thinking constantly. I got very drunk last night, which was utterly selfish. I was also vulnerable more than I thought I would be, but fortunately I was in the company of safe friends, and hence didn't make an ass of myself too much, and didn't do anything rash or stupid in the throes of my depressed binge. I am utterly afraid that my last writing spew has deeply upset that same boy whose love i will be absent from indefinitely, and I can't explain myself at all. This urge to unload all my ponderings when they get too heavy to hold is dangerous...i think last night was the wrong time to unload. I don't know what to say now...but I'm sure i'll think of something soon. Just going to keep writing, good, bad, ugly, scary, silly, real, fake, lies and truth. This is my life.

night the second

This is all off to a lovely start. Lying in my bed, slightly intoxicated after a long night of drinking, singing, socializing, smiling and laughing every time I felt like crying, and seeing the boy for a few moments before he left me to my crowded aloneness. Finding out tonight, again, for the first time, an unrequited love towards me is still burning...can't tell it, can't ever tell about it. But even though it's ridiculous, it's strangely comforting. I don't feel so unprotected. It is like being protected from afar, this love that will never be returned and never acted upon...he will watch over me, he wrote a song about me and he is good at guarding me when i'm defenseless. Like tonight....Lame, weak, drinking drinking drinking and acting like everything is fine...then closing the bar down with unrequited-love boy, and smoking smoking smoking...and secrets revealed...and a million things not revealed, and million things not spoken. So loudly not spoken. So still, standing on Main Street in Manchester, in the cool air, watching the cars racing by and the moths frantic around the outside lights. I am tired. Day two of my solitude...I feel like a loser.

And then there was one.

Hello, me again. All revved up to start my regular outflow of writing, only to smash up against a wall of my own busyness immediately following said revved-up-ness. But here's the new bit: In one small, fifteen-minute phone call, the cushion of comfort and security that I have been living in, i.e. love, vanished all away and left me alone and naked on my bed, staring out the window as the wind whipped the rain against the pond. Done. Adrift and single again, when I thought I would never be single again. I know, it is for a purpose and it's not forever, necessarily, and it's all for the best, really, we both need time and space and thinking and independence. He needs it. I need him to have it. I can only know for sure if I let him go for sure, and then see if he ever comes back. But for now I am waiting, and I am single, and I am so despondant I can't even cry. I just walk around dazed, wondering why I feel like I'm on pause while the rest of the world is on fast-forward. No more summer plans, no dates and no phone calls and no August spent on the island in Canada and no concerts and no hot July love. Nothing but empty empty fucking inboxes and silent cellphone and weekends to spend thinking up something else to do. Wondering what he has thought up to do. I am so terrified. I can't even voice my own fears. I am afraid that speaking them will cause them to happen. He is my best friend, and my worst enemy. And then there was one, and I am the one.

The end of the beginning...

...seemed like a good place to start at the time I was considering writing at all. Here, on this thing, this blog, which I am still shamefacedly considering new and threatening to my technologically-fearful mind. I am aimless and content, here in the moment of my time, come at last to the closure of a full day of going on and on to do the next thing, always the next thing to do. I'm done doing, for now. I crap with pride on doing for the rest of my consciousness today. Oh damn it is already tomorrow. The clock says 12:02...I have missed the end of the day. It is now tomorrow-today, and I am still going on. Anna, I am starting this thing so we can do this kind of thing at very regular intervals...it means nothing at the moment, this writing, but reading yours was like stepping back down your little driveway, past the barefooted Serbs smoking on your porch, inside your house, to smoosh onto the couch for crosswords or sit on the long bench in the kitchen and eat ice cream out of the container....i love the memories. i love reading your writing. i love you? yes, i love you.