good stories

When I realize I've been avoiding this space it occurs to me I've been avoiding my self. There aren't even any bits of paper to remind me of how I've felt.

I miss him terribly and have been crying a lot over the loss of him the last few weeks. At first I cried out of anger, out of betrayal. Now, I realize there is no immediate replacement for what he did give me. All I have is the immense feeling of utter aloneness.

However, the heartache of it all is not enough to re-establish communication. In one drunken spurt of emotion over the course of my birthday week I thought I would. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to be with me. We were supposed to be having fabulous sex.

That was until I saw what he wrote about her and what she wrote about him and I lashed out drunkenly, vengefully only to become a passing joke he tells at social gatherings I'm sure.

I have sex with random people just to have sex. Perpetuated by the fear I will never have sex again. The words actually came out of my mouth the other night, "well, at least it will make a good story."

But all I am left with is a good story.