It's just life
I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd.


Monday, Oct. 02, 2006
It's my goal to write every day now. I recently was hanging out with some "work" friends from other states I haven't seen in awhile. One of them asked me what I'd written lately and I had nothing to give her.

"You've been depressed, huh?"

I hadn't really thought about it, but it was very true. I've been trying to unlock what it is that has been so wrong with me in the last couple of years. This weekend, I think I started to come close. I wrote a myspace blog about it, but for those of you nonmyspacers, I will post it at the bottom of this entry.

* * *

I love him entirely too much for everything that has happened. He came for a week and we had an amazing time. Until the last two nights. I fucked up, he fucked up in retaliation to my fucking up and we never really talked about what happened. Instead he fucked me in a parking structure and we called it over. Later, at home, I tried to break up with him again.

He said to me, "Your insecurities and your self-esteem issues blind you to the fact that I am in love with you. You are the only person I have ever planned a future with, you are the only ltr I have ever thought about. I couldn't even see a future with the ex wife. I will love you for the rest of my life. You can do with that what you will, you can break up with me if you want, but know I will never love anyone like I love you. I don't ever want to love anyone like I love you. I'm going to bed, do whatever you want."

I sat in the beginning glow of morning dusk. I watched him walk into my bedroom and I sat and thought for a minute. I walked into the bedroom, took off my clothes, and curled up as tight as I possible could around him.

"I want you to know I will love you for the rest of my life."

We closed our eyes and fell asleep.

I took him to the airport the next day. We mostly giggled about the parking structure incident. At the airport, smoking cigarettes, we agreed to chalk about the previous evenings' fights to being to drunk, being too proud.

I told him I needed forward movement. He now seems to be moving faster than me. Somedays I feel stuck. Somedays I feel like my feet are in cement. Waiting, waiting, waiting for the wrecking ball to hit.

* * *

Itsy bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout,

One of my earliest memories of my grandmother is her putting me in the tub next to the clothes washer as she did laundry. We would sing songs, practice the alphabet, and generally have a good time. Since the day I was born she was my best friend. She walked me to and from school where I would recap my day and tell her everything that happened.

I always liked hanging out in the basement of my grandmother's house. I think it was either at the end of high school or even in college when she finally told me why. I didn't remember we had lived with her until I was three. The room in the basement was mine. What I do remember was always wanting to be there. Even as a small child I would walk to her house sometimes without even telling my mother.

Down came the rain and washed the spider out,

She taught me that if someone didn't want to be my friend or my boyfriend it was really too bad for them. She instilled in me the kind of narcissim that gets you into a lot of trouble has a youth. I was queen of my world and everyone should bow down before me. I was the smartest, funniest, most talented person that ever walked the face of the earth in her eyes.

When something bad would happen, I would go to her. When something good would happen I would rush to her house to tell her about it or call her from the pay phone at school. Even in college I called her almost every day and visited almost every other weekend. If I didn't tell her something, if something was bothering me and I wasn't talking about it, we would sit and play cards until she finally got it out of me. The people who have met my grandmother are the most important people in my life. Even if they are no longer in my life anymore.

Out came the sun and dried up all the rain,

In the last couple of years she has gotten very ill. Her heart can't pump enough oxygen to her brain and she isn't the grandmother I knew anymore. It's hard to tell her things because she can rarely remember them. She has trouble walking or remembering what pills she took. She wakes up in the middle of the night and writes notes on post-its to remember her dreams because she doesn't know if they are real or not. She constantly asks me when I'm going to move home and take care of her.

I have been avoiding all of this. I don't talk about it and I try not to think about it because all I do is cry. I lost my best friend and yet her body is still here. She still smiles at me and laughs at my jokes and wants me tell her all my stories, but I don't, I can't. I can't ask her advice or cry on her shoulder anymore. I try to be so strong, but I am a coward. I don't call her enough and I don't see her enough.

I am her world, I am her everything. And I feel like I have failed her immensely.

So the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again.

I realized this weekend if I keep avoiding all these feelings, if I keep avoiding the situation as is, I will feel even more guilty and horrible when she is gone. I have to buck up, I have to stop avoiding displeasant things. I need to deal with life head on, because the more I am afraid of what will happen, the more I am afraid of life. I have always been one to live life to the fullest. Lately, I feel like I've been hiding, I've been in this weird limbo of time and emotion. Contantly waiting for the future to happen. Afraid of what will happen. Not even knowing what I want to happen.

No more. No more.

I'm determined to climb up the spout again.
9:16 p.m. ::
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