It's been a while since you last saw me
One breaks down and the other ones fade
These eyes can see the days break
Too late for the other's mistakes
Sit down laugh thinking what have we done
Let me inside
Is it all over before it's begun
Please give me some time
The demand for emotion-filled posts on how I feel, how I'm doing seems to be blood for your veins and no one, even me, seems content to pass off a review or a few lines about how I spent a morning.
Interesting. Who is the masochist now?
Okay, I am, that wasn't fair, was it?
Here's the thing. Overwhelmingly, the most frequent question I get asked, aside from the please, write more porn one is why do I keep writing?
I promise, when I get to have more sex, I'll write about it. Until then we can all be frustrated together.
Here is why: I'm a writer, and I'm also loathe to leave anything unfinished. Walking away from this journal that will be four years old soon would be like turning off a movie you're really enjoying before the conclusion. I'm waiting to write my own happy ending.
I'm waiting to write better entries. I'm waiting to have better days. I'm trying to take deep breaths again and I'm learning to not worry about Ben dying or everyone leaving or winding up in hell where the fight over me will rage on. I'm content to have this incredibly stinging existence where I know I am loved and I can love in return but with a heaping serving of deja vu so large it throws a shadow on everything and keeps the sunlight from reaching the ground where I stand.
I'm going to get there. I'm looking forward to it.
I woke up alone this morning, alone with my smile. The sun came up and I threw open the window and beamed back at it. My friends called and I greeted each one of them with a happy good morning wish instead of my customary Hey. I walked the dog listening to happy music. I did some long-ignored clearing out of closets I haven't opened in months.
I found some strength. I found a little hope. I found that I might be able to get through this after all. Things get better. John gave me a rabbit's foot this morning as I stood on the field watching him take down the boards around the ice rink that Jacob helped construct at the beginning of the winter. He told me it would bring me luck. I told him he was right, it probably would.
