2001-02-24 :: 7:22:08pm
I've had a couple of hours to mull over the whole Puzzleboy scene and the trth of the matter is that I'm nonplussed. I mean, I thought we were having fun and even Rock Star Ex suggested that I tell him how I really feel, that I want to be his girlfriend (I know...of all people, but hey, he was being helpful)... but I guess the way I was seeing things was not what was really happening and so this makes me think I don't really know what is real and what's fake.
This is the only disturbing fact of this whole mess.
Puzzleboy dumping me? Par for the course, kids.
Fluxcapacitor said that when you find someone you're madly in love with, you should "grab on, don't let go," and "fight to the death" to keep that person with you.
And I'm trying.
I don't know what else to do. I'm trying as hard as I can to keep him in my stupid little world. I'm trying to play things by his rules and trying not to be upset with him dating H.H. I'm trying to understand him, and trying to be patient with him like he asked. Trying not to think about his hands on another woman. I am so exhaustively trying.
All I can do is hope. And I have so little left of it. I hope and I cry. People may think it's pathetic but I don't care. I don't care who knows anymore. That is my secret. That I still cry about him.
That he owns my heart.
That I love him as much if not more than ever.
That I wiped the slate clean for him one last time. One last time.
That I miss him in a way most closely resembling death.
That the absence of his face touching mine is some days overwhelming and devastating.
Like right now.
And I want it to stop. I want to get off this crazy ride. I want to stop rewinding all the tender, lovely words we exchanged. I want t ostop thinking about how being near each other electrifies a room. I want to stop all of it because I can't see the point in being so in love with him. I want to wake up from this nightmare already, to wake to Rock Star Ex spooning me, to turn to him and say "My God, what a horrible, bizarre dream I had."
I once read that sometimes, a person can sustain mild amnesia from being submerged in freezing water. And that depending on how long the person is in the freezing water, it will determine how severe the amnesia.
And nights like this I want to walk to the park, climb over the railing, and lie down slowly underneath the surface of the freezing river. Just enough to forget that I love him. Just enough to forget that I ever hurt this much. I'd still know him, but I wouldn't remember our years together. I'd probably know he was a friend, but that we ever loved, lived, or laid together for so long would be erased from my memory.
This is the only way I would ever get over him. The person who'd loved Rock Star Ex is not able to handle the awful bodily truth that he is gone, evaporated into another person, a person who sleeps and wakes with H.H.
The girl who sat in a rowboat with him in Central Park, four summers ago, passing back and forth the New York Press and laughing and flirting, the girl who stroked his face, this girl really needs to go, because she can't live as witness to such loss.
And since I would never be idiotic enough to take the required number of pills, at least I could attempt the creation of someone else, someone who would never miss his guitars leaning against corners of his room or the view from his handlebars. Or him. Someone who would never know what I had known with him.
Now if only I had the balls to do it.