February 28, 2010

  • one last quick missive before it's showers and car-coffee.  i'm thinking this whole diary thing is pretty important, since it's pretty much the same as writing in a private journal.  i think llamar is the only one who actually reads it anymore, so it's kind of like having a private conversation, yeah?  but maybe it's time for a new venue, or maybe just posting without worrying that it's clogging inboxes (since, hellllllooooo, there's no one here anymore...)

    but i think it's good that the exb hasn't happened upon us yet, and i can write honestly.  when i get home tonight i'm going to much through the whole thing, piece by piece, and try to discern what my next move will be.  because right now, i can't think or i get sad.  like, crying at the down syndrome prom queen commercial sad.  and that's pretty pathetic.

    i'm going to find my camera tomorrow, too.  thinking of doing a 365, seems like fun.  we all know i love taking shitty self pics.

    this is all important and pertinent.  and i'm so glad i don't have to worry about your ghost creeping up on my anymore, searching for your face so i can turn my back and run like fucking hell, till the lungs burn and the stomach acid flips the evacuation switch.  because that's how i feel when i accidentally think of you, when someone reminds me of you and i think about what a fool i was to believe you ever gave the smallest shit about me.  i mean, really, was i that blind?  it seems sad now, to read over the things i thought about you.  if i were you i would be making so much fun of me, running around town saying "isn't that girl a fucking moron for even entertaining a notion i could like her?  doesn't she know that's just what i do?"

    and i think more pathetic than that is the fact that i still think about it, though in a town like this it's not all that far out of the realm of possibility that i could be reminded of you without meaning to be, in the faces of people or their actions or words, places you worked or lived or a misplaced song creeping through my bedroom at 2am.  i don't think that makes me a bad person, just a sad sack of shit.  but who cares, really?  it's not like i've got to face the music.  not like this is ever going to mean anything.  so now i'm late to get in the shower, and am going to have to speed all the way to burlington, to my death, fast and furious and never stopping to think about the ghouls behind my eyelids.  go to hell.