28th June

Today was hell.

I can't stay busy enough. This morning I woke up at 6, stayed in bed until 7:15, cleaned the kitchen, mopped the floor, cleaned the bathroom, folded all of my laundry, went for a long walk (and cried the entire time), vacuumed and cleaned out my car...and that was all before 10. I spent the rest of the day dying to hear your voice (other than in my head). Of course I'm not sure what I would say to you. Grief is weird in that you reach a point of being reconciled to life without your love, that the idea of back tracking is strangely scary. But what isn't scary these days?

Last night I prayed that my existence would be undone. I didn't pray to die, I just prayed to go away. Imagine my disappointment when I woke up, early (that must have been God's way of punishing me, make me lucid longer than necessary on a lonely Saturday).

Babe, I feel so torn. I want you, I miss you, I teeter on the edge of doing whatever, sacrificing whatever to have you again. I wonder what life is like where you are. I wonder if you really do miss me, I wonder how fast your love is fading, I wonder if it's as hard for you as it is for me. I hate being alone, and that's exactly where I am.

While I was walking this morning I thought of life's irony. All the time it took for me to trust you, to go from wanting you to needing you, to relinquish my fierce independence. Everything I tried so hard to keep for myself, to keep myself safe. The irony? I gave that all to you, and then you left and took it with you. And now I'm here, with no one to trust, no one to need, and a wounded independence that wants nothing more than to depend on you.

Bitter.