We get along, but there’s some differences. When it comes to human interaction, we seem to be the same. He doesn’t really like Francis, but the sex is amazing. He doesn’t like wet feet or wet clothes or long walks, but he says I’m the most beautiful girl he’s ever been with. He has no taste, no style, no creativity, but he’s open to learn mine. I’m never nervous around him. Beyond occupation, you two are nothing alike.

The other night, I was sleeping next to him, but dreaming about you. The dreams were not sweet. You tried to kill me. In the dream, you said you would, and I never thought you’d meant it. A man stopped you, and I stayed quiet. I never wanted to trouble you.

I started seeing him in an attempt to let you go. I think that dream was trying to tell me I ought to.

That’s what I keep saying.

I’m crying about you again, or at least I have a few times this week.

I just got a new phone. I’ve been looking forward to this so that I can leave us on the old one. Our photos and conversations at least. They make me cry. I keep going back there to cry I guess.

I’ve added a few songs to your playlist. Maybe you’ll notice. It’s the best way I can share with you.

I think I’m a little broken after you.

I shoveled three houses yesterday and used you as motivation to muscle through the dense plow piles blocking driveways. I imagined you’d be doing similar labor around that time. I imagined you watching me from across the street or a passing car.

I still find myself waiting for that. Waiting for you to show up unannounced. Flatbed trucks and old red fords make my heart drop.

You won’t. It’ll never be you. There’s no time.

I wish I could hate you. I wish you were a piece of shit.

I wish you could just be happy.

Someday you will be.

Someday you will be so good for yourself, and someday after that, you will be so good for someone else.

freaking out about my family not liking me

freaking out about dislates cardiomyopathy

AHHHHH

The one thing I ever asked of you was the one thing you said you couldn’t do.

Cutting my hair, piercing my tits… well that only gets me so far.

When you die and word doesn’t cross the Mississippi, will I feel it?

Yeah. I’m lonely again. No one to bounce my thoughts to. I don’t really think you know about isolation. Maybe yours is different.

I know that when you die if it were tomorrow, the grave will be flanked by those who truly love you. Everyone there will hold the weight of a piece of your soul. True friends and chosen family. People you’ve made efforts to get to know and keep around.

As I think of who would attend mine, there would be family of course. They wouldn’t ever know why I did it. I’d never tell them. I’d leave them with “I’m sorry” and nothing more. My coworkers. Josie would be there. Maybe Hannah with Alyssa. Maybe Anysia. Select patrons I suppose. I have not made the effort to keep anyone else around. Sure it would be sad, but I am not a feature in anyone’s daily life. No one’s daily life would change without my presence. I won’t do it. I can’t apologize to the cats. Francis wouldn’t understand. that part. Francis wouldn’t understand. That’s what made me cry. I won’t do it. For her, I need to be here.

make something beautiful

Do what feels good