Anyone else feel like they are stuck in the montage from the second Twilight movie where she sends emails that never get read or responded to, and just sits in a chair and stares out her window as the seasons change and it cuts to her screaming a lot in the night.
No?
Just me then?
Okay.
That blood curdling, sorrowful scream of so much pent up pain and loss. It is easier to accept absence if the other person doesn’t exist anymore. At least you can logic your way around the holes in your heart, eventually. Mourning the living hurts like hell. Never heals. I mean technically Edward was dead; but lived forever. There is no metaphor in that. just an odd observation. Mourning an immoral must be extra fucky.
For an actress who constantly looks like she is holding in a fart and hesitates after Every. Single. Word. She sure can screech in a way that I feel it in my soul.
Can we just get to the church on time and end this already?
I was supposed to be off the internet and working on a book, any book today. But I realized I barely rewrote the beginning of the Little Mermaid for one of them so that might not work. Didn’t open the big new one and I can’t find the intro for the other.
I did look, rather thoroughly and ended up revisiting old blog posts, using them for jumping off points and writing new things as well as revamping and expanding on things that were never meant to be public, but hey, fuck it. I wrote the intro during retrograde so we can safely assume it is gone forever into the ether. I don’t think it was that great anyways.
My usual trick for getting writing done is to have a basket of socks that need sorting and I will cure cancer to avoid it. I hate sorting socks. No idea why. I like organizing things, sometimes.
On my list of quarantine tasks is going through all 600+ posts on the blog and fixing them.
I reeeeeally don’t wanna.
In there somewhere, pretty much everywhere, exists a girl who pined after this boy or that one, got hella catfished and heartbroken and watched a lot of Twilight.
I was dealing with the shedding of High School Sweetheart at the time, to be fair. 26 years lost and wasted over what turned out to be nothing but a racist roughneck who thought me no better than to split his time between his wife and I. She left him a year or so later and took everything. Somehow, he managed to be surprised by this. Can’t say I didn’t warn him. He wanted me to be salve for the wounds, ex hubby did too. Come on guys, even at my worst I am better than that.
I had to forgive myself for caring about someone who hurt me as badly as he did. As badly as any of them did really.
That was the beginning of all of this. The magical 6 year journey.
Since then, I have lost 3 best girls. Reclaimed the only one that mattered and made some semblance of peace with another.
Another thing on the list of shit I really aught to be doing is cleaning out my downloads folders, both on my phone and ye old laptop. There is so much porn on my phone I can’t find anything. Maybe tomorrow.
This is in there.
I know it looks benign, but it bothers me a bit. Just one more example of being worshipped then forgotten. I forgave him last time I saw him. How could someone be so enamored of me to think to photograph traces of me like this, and then leave? Drugs, the answer is drugs. Even a good witch doesn’t trump hillbilly heroin. So be it.
But it’s all in here. Every mister and mistake. Every time I made someone into something they weren’t.
No grudges, just lessons.
I stumbled on an old post about me and Giant, last leap year. No idea why I didn’t remember that. Every time we see each other I have to do mental math on how long it’s been. I highly doubt, now that I have put that together, that I will ever have trouble remembering again. We were gonna hang out, but he is a mortician so ya, he’s been a bit busy lately. I wish I could go back in time and tell the sad girl in that tiny, albeit beautiful room, in our old apartment that it was okay to be sad and everything was going to be alright in the end. We evolved, both separately and together into what we were meant to be. I was right about him the whole time. He is important and we remain friends to this day.
I have a half formed theory regarding leap years being really fucking tumultuous. And I just found out Pluto went retrograde so basically we are having to deal with unresolved issues from our past and being locked up for as long as I have with literally nothing to do, I am in the thick of it. Might as well start the autopsies and see what I can glean from the viscera.
A different ex accused me of ‘taking hugs’ and sucking his energy or some other such shit. He just didn’t like physical contact unless he was getting his dick wet. That did not go over well. I hate being manipulated. I just learned to live without both and shortly thereafter learned to live without him.
For me, good touch is as necessary (if not more) as food. And I am fucking starving with only a vague idea about when supper will be ready.
Non affectionate ex might have had the right idea, at least now and going forward. Anyone I hug is going to have to psychically block me from feeding off of them accidentally. I have become Rogue in my isolation. Complete with white streaks in my hair.
I am trying to channel my inner Churchill, ‘if you are going through hell, keep going’ but I am awfully starved for affection and I am really tired.
Samuel Beckett —
ESTRAGON: I can’t go on like this.
VLADIMIR: That’s what you think.
I can, and I will.
It’s a bad day, not a bad life.
But I really need a hug.
And I really
need to get back to writing. Preferably about the future or a fantasy I can
escape into at least.
I am trapped in an attic alone, Pluto is in retrograde and my ghosts are all
here.
