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11 November 2012 @ 07:24 pm
I like the sounds you make when you sleep  
Winter comes stamped with (yes, predictable as it is) his blue blue eyes, the tenor of his voice, the shape and temperature and rhythms of our home, the way fall looked there, the way each holiday fell with us together.

I don't think I'll really be able to be in a new relationship until this year runs its course, this stupid cycle that leads up to everything over and then I'll have lived through it. I feel weird and pitiful for not being over it, for underneath everything else remembering all the firsts of last year and how I thought they were the beginning of a lifetime of memories.

It doesn't matter if he deserved it. I loved Greg so much.

I've become proficient at talking flippantly about almost everything, but there's still this massive, if receding, confusion. It feels hollow, like an echo -- not internal and red-black like the end of a war.

I can bullshit better now. I finally got on a good combination of meds that keeps my anxiety and insomnia tamped down more often than not. I do something I'm proud of. I've grown and branched in my worldview. I'm pretty motherfucking self-reliant. I think he'd like me better if he met me now. But I wouldn't have any more of my heart to give, and this far along into The Adventure, I don't think I would've signed on.

It's strange not to love someone specific and to wonder if you still can and to remember what you had, cracks and all, and wonder where you find things like that again. The pattern's been discontinued, the label folded, the shop's closed.

They won't be issuing a re-print. You have to find the next thing.
 
 
Current Mood: melancholymelancholy
Current Music: Violent Femmes, "Gone Daddy Gone"