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2001-03-23 :: 12:44 p.m.
Like the mom in Poltergeist as she went into that scary closet/fourth dimension/netherworld to retrieve her daughter, with the rope tied around her waist. That's kind of like how I feel. That, no matter how far I venture out there in the big big world, or what I see or who I meet or what kind of time I'm having, there's always a little tug. Every now and then, a tug. From him. From the life I used to have with him, from the friends we used to share. And it doesn't go away. And I suppose it is possible to cut the rope, but it makes me feel strangely safe in a way. Is that sick? It's like I need a tug every now and then from that side of my life because the grief I experienced feeling like everyone I knew had disappeared is too overwhelming to go back to. An email here, an IM argument there, these things are like my little tugs. Reminding me. It's only been six months, but it feels like (say it with me..) years. And to tell you the truth, I still miss everything. Not to say that my newer life is bad or that I'd change anything about it, given the chance. I'm a much happier person, you know? I've figured out how to let loose and just be artistic or crazy or whatever. I've met so many people and I've welcomed a lot of them into my insane little world. I would have never done that before. What was holding me back? Nothing. Just me. It was always me. And this saddens me to such a degree that it's almost paralyzing, what I did to myself back then. And I couldn't expect anybody to lift me out, but I relied to heavily on RockStar Ex and Shasta to do that for me anyway, practically pleading with them on some levels to make me happy, tell me the right thing, hold me, kiss me, love me, anything! And it was wrong. And I may have ruined relationships. Mine and Rock Star Ex's, mine and Shasta's. Everything inbetween. What's done is done. I can now only recognize and move on, I suppose. But there's always my tether. No matter how great I feel on any given day that I'm being artistic or social or fun or having a good writing day, I always want to share that. I always want to call him and say "Come check this out with me," or "Let's go do this," because it's so instinctive, because I know in a perfect world he'd say "okay, come over." In a perfect world, we'd be able to stay together. And I want to buy abnormally large bottles of red wine and get tanked with her. Watching some terrible movie. Gorging on leftovers. Being girls. How is it possible to lose all these good things? And is the frequent longing for all these things some kind of a sign to work on retrieving them? I don't know the answers to any of these things. I do know that it is I know that I miss him so much and I love him so much that I let him go, I watched him go. He may never come back. And with that, went another important person. Tug. Tug. Tug. and another entry I feel the need to edit and not delete, to serve as a reminder of how fucked up people are and how right I was to feel all the bad feelings I had about her and him. i hope their hideous karma is working its way towards fucking them up royally sooner rather than later. Amen. |