drunkencynic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- heart spillage So I guess the segregated diary that renders Thomas ramblings obsolete is now...well, obsolete. I'd rather dump my heart all over this diary. I think by trying to segregate him from my regular diary I was trying to segregate him from my life. But that just makes me feel misplaced. God, that moment when I first met him at the coffee shop. Elena left to go to the bathroom, and he just looked at me, and then said, "Take your sunglasses off." I was reluctant, but he pushed for it, and it was that moment that I knew that he wasn't going to be a passing flirtation, or something that I could be rid of easily. This guy was persistent, and he wanted to be in my life. It's been so hard lately. It's hard having all the memories spring up unbidden, like "here we are! remember this? wasn't this great? well, guess what- it's gone! you'll never have it again! mwuahahaha!" yeah, I guess my memories have personalities. Malevolent ones. It's been worse than Milo, because with Thomas I got used to him. Used to him being around every day, used to being able to slip off with him and have sex, lots of it, for long periods of time. Used to joking around, and buying food late at night after we wore ourselves out, and introducing people to him, and defending him to my parents and friends and people who made fun of him. Used to dreaming about him, and planning the next day around him. Used to Friday and Saturday nights being completely taken up. Used to hungering for the weekend when I could see him all day long if I wanted to. And I always wanted to. Used to folding myself up in his arms, used to smoothing the hair away from his forehead, used to curling up next to him after we were done, used to giggling and laughing and kissing. I used to love to look at him, if we were driving somewhere (and by god we drove a lot). Just turning in my seat and staring at him as he smoked a cigarette, with his eyes on the road. It would take him a long time to look back at me, with a little smile, saying, "What? What is it?" It was just that I was in awe of him, this person, this man, almost, that belonged solely to me. That belonged to me even more than I belonged to him. Which is why it was all the more shocking to find out that he didn't belong to me. He belonged to those people he told me he wouldn't hang out with and did and lied about it. He belonged to those little crimes he committed. He belonged to those stupid, unimaginative, unnecessary lies he fed me the whole time we were together. Lies that I believe wholeheartedly, because after all- how could I have doubted? Nobody had ever lied to me like that before. I had no cause to doubt. If he had lied to me solely about cheating with other girls, I could understand that. I really could, because I've been there and done that, and it's almost second nature to me too. Not that I wouldn't be pissed out of my mind, but I'd understand. But lying and making promises that he knew he'd break about silly little things, things that were big to him but not to me...that I just can't understand. The worst part now is really that girl. It's not that I wish I were her, or that I could have him back. It's just that all that we'd been through (and fuck, we'd been through a lot) could have been replaced like that, in the blink of an eye, by a silly fifteen-year old with dyed hair. And that he would be mesmerized by her, as he had been by me. I guess that's just how he is. So incomplete in himself that his focus can be switched instantly from one girl to another. Which is how I can let him go. He is not the sun and moon, he is a very fucked-up boy who was bad for me. We had some good times, some very good times. And we had some bad times. I can't forget about those. The times when I knew that he'd had a thing for a certain girl. How did I know about those things? Intuition. But it was selective intuition, and I'm betting that there are a few that I'd met that I didn't sense it about. There were those times when I'd get so angry at him for some stupid, careless thing he'd done. He hadn't meant to. But he was immature and inexperienced and insensitive, and it made me so frustrated. I remember trying to reconcile that adoring boy that made love to me with that careless, egotistical jerk who sidestepped my worries and lamented about his back pains. And he always had some sort of physical ailment going on. It was as if his nonexistent guilt manifested itself in the form of physical pain. I bet there's a good psychoanalytical study to be done on that. I'm trying to be whole again, to remember that I am a whole person, and a valid one at that, without need of a guy or a fling going on. I swore I'd never worry about being complete without a guy, but that was before I thought it would be ripped away from me so violently and without warning. I think I'm just trying to adjust to the shock. I never want to be those women who wail and think they're not sufficient in themselves if they don't have a husband or a boyfriend. But I'm having trouble thinking of myself as complete, the way I am. It's confusing. And I guess I miss those filled Friday and Saturday nights too. 10:50 a.m. - 2003-06-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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