PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

bad day

Tuesday, Jun. 11, 2002
Iím at work and I canít keep my head straight. I have a thousand things flying through my mind. A thousand mistakes Iíve made. I never meant to mess everything all up as badly as I manage to do constantly. Every time something good comes into my life, I canít accept that Iím allowed to have that something good. So many scars have embedded themselves into me and made me believe that I didnít have any right to any happiness. And that if I had itÖit would be fleeting and the pain and heartache would shortly follow. And so I do whatever I can to sabotage everything. I donít know why I let one thing hurt me so badly that I gave up and ran back. And what is up with husband. I practically told him ďI love someone else, I messed it up and Iím completely distraught.Ē And he said ďcall me if you need to talkĒ. Everythingís so fucked.

And to add insult to injury a co-worker just told me that heís moving to NC.

It would make for a good novel if it wasnít my life. If I wasnít the sad stick figure walking around in it, it would be pretty interesting. I want that end scene where the dark closes in like a giant black circle and the colors get smaller and smaller.

Iím just done. Done with everything. Nothing I do is taking away the constant lump in my throat, the hollow I feel inside. The regretsÖ

I wish I could just get up and leave everything behind and chase everything I want. But I had that chance and blew it. Now didnít I? He said, ďdo you want to be 60 and look back and regret that you didnít meet me?Ē He has no real clue how big regret is. Itís choking off my blood flow. Iím not very good at loving anybody.

I just got called into my bossís office and told. ďwe noticed a 58 minute phone call from your friend in NC on our 800 number. Tell him to call you on the regular line. Weíre more upset about the 58 minutes than the cost.

I am not having a good day to say the least.
11:18 a.m. ::
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