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Thursday, September 14
Oh, the immense and crushing sadness. Today I must change my tattoo. It used to bear a heart and the possessive of his name because it belonged to him. Now I am adding a vine of thorns between the name and the heart, as if to protect it from its former owner. I imagine the name he has on his chest... mine... will either get blacked out or be fodder for the next crop of lies he tells. "Oh, Jessie was my fiancée and she was killed by a drunk driver" or that Jessie was his third daughter who died at birth and he had her heart tattooed on his chest in commemoration. Or, oh my god, I'm a fucking POW. None of the conscious things I tell myself about how bad he was for me make any difference when I stand in the shower and cry for the times we used to spend together laughing in there. And none of them make me feel any better when I reach for him in the night and find nothing there. And I guess what really is best for me would be to remember that while we had some good times, they are just over and I can't have them back. Not after this. I can't remember ever feeling this bad. I adored him for so many reasons and there were so many things about him that I feel like I can't live without. I guess now I'll find out if that's true.
Thursday, September 14
Pain and a change of plans...
After dropping off the few things he'd left behind... some stuff his daughters gave him and a DVD... I feel slightly liberated. (I took the cowards way out and left a box in the bed of his truck. I know... I know.) I am feeling more and more like this is the right thing to do. Thankfully, I have my privacy set to "friends only" so I know he's not reading this and he won't know how miserable I am. God, I totally wanted this to work so much. But journaling it like this is making me feel better too... like sucking the poison out of a wound. It hurts while I write it but after it's out I feel a little better. Anyway, I decided to change the tattoo later when I can have a friend go with me for some moral support because this will be quite traumatic. And instead, I'm going to get my hair done. Nothing like a new haircut to make you feel better after a break up! But I miss him BAD. So bad I can't stand it sometimes and I have to go into denial and pretend I never even knew him or I'll lose control and have a complete breakdown. But hey, denial... it's what I do.
Next week we discuss five year plans and I share some bad poetry.