I remember how, in college, every day felt like it could be the day I met him.
Not anymore, although certainly when I started online dating I got that feeling back.
I’m actually on a semi-hiatus from it. The faces are too familiar. I need new choices.
How can I still cry for him almost two years later? Sometimes I think I should thank him for saving me from himself. Mostly I’m angry he took that choice from me.
I write to him. On a separate blog. One he’ll never see.
I’m moody and dramatic lately, pushed from behind by PMS and ahead from Cupid.
It’s not constant. I’m not wasting away into a waif. I’m not directionless. If anything, I’ve been more focused and motivated, more creative and driven, than ive been in a long while.
But I’ve been telling myself a lot of lies lately. I try to follow up right away and confess I’m lying. But sometimes I don’t, and poor Jackie spends hours marinating in that awful brew.
Tonight my skin is pruney with Lie Soup. I need to cry it out.