cluttering the net since 2001


Tuesday, Aug. 03, 2004
R. asked me where my guestbook was so I put it back. (and took it away within an hour....because fuck you http://fulltilt.diaryland.com..fuck you!) I just get so fed up with a certain someone who wants to pretend he knows about my life. I’d also like to emphatically state here and anywhere for that matter that R. never hit me. If anyone’s truly at fault it is me. I am hedging about talking openly about some issues that I have. I hedge because I really don’t need to hear the entire backlash whenever it won’t change anything in my past. Suffice it to say that I am in the wrong and am fully aware of that. That while R is not perfect just because I think that he is, I am far far from being perfect myself.

I never opened myself up completely to the relationship I was involved in with R. because I was so damned afraid of being hurt again. If I had done things correctly I would have taken the right time to get over the divorce without leaning so heavily on him and without making him take the blame for all of my fears and past pains. He never was my ex, he never has lied to me and he has never done anything even remotely close to the things that my ex did. Yet…I assumed that eventually he might or that he would or that he could or that no one could truly love me…and in that false belief I messed it all up.

I have made many many mistakes with R. I would spend hours upon hours on the phone with someone else while leaving R alone in the living room. I’d sit on the patio and talk and talk and maybe I thought it was better to be emotionally close to someone that wasn’t truly in my life and couldn’t possibly hurt me than it would have been to be that close to R who was right there and in my past frame of mind I thought that meant that he could hurt me. He was in front of me and I always cared about him, I was just terrified of letting him ever know that. As if somehow admitting to another human being that they hold your heart and your soul and can destroy you upon will means that I had to fear those things rather than dance in all that was good about the love he tried to give me.

I can only state that I have gone long enough without getting help. I need a lot of counseling and when I get a job and things settle down, I fully intend to go. Not because of anyone else, but because I know that I need to do this. I need to tell someone all of the things that have happened to me. Someone who is impartial and will hopefully tell me how to heal and get passed those pains of the past. Someone who will help me open myself up completely to the man that stands before me and has everything in the world to give and everything in the world that I want.

I had a good person in my life. I say I had…I hope I still have that. I hope I have the chance to mend and heal those things not only myself but along with him. I love him more than I’ve ever loved another man. I see the pain that I have caused written all over his face and it breaks me inside. It makes me want to drop to my knees and pray to every entity that there is for forgiveness and absolution from not just the things I did but all of the times I felt love for him but stood there crossed armed and unable to express it to him.

He is so many things to me. He is someone who held me when I cried laughed with me when I was able and stuck by me even when I messed things up. This was someone who bailed me out of jail when I got in trouble, someone who told me we’d work through it all and not to worry so many times it makes my head spin to think about it now. This was someone who came home every night and told me most every day that he loved me. This was someone that wanted nothing more from me than for me to openly love him back with all that I am and all that I have to give. And I was too scared. Too scared to pull down all of those walls and believe in all of the love that was just there.

This was someone who was sweet, romantic, and provided me a shoulder to cry on more times than anyone else in my life ever has. And I held myself away from it. It was as if it was all too much for me to comprehend. That someone that wasn’t my family, wasn’t my husband, someone who just arrived in my life could and would care about me that much. It was something I had a hard time believing in. To the point that I myself messed it all up in my own refusal to have faith.

There were countless times whenever I didn’t communicate openly. Whenever I left work and didn’t go home or call. I wasn’t out doing wrong things, but it was still wrong of me to not at least call him and tell him I was ok. I held back from being all tied up in what was going on in my own house. I was afraid that if I admitted that it all mattered to me that I would lose it all. In that false sense of self protection I literally set up all the dominoes to in essence destroy everything that I did indeed have. I was afraid to live as though married by souls. I was afraid to share all things because I had done this for so many years with the wrong man and had ached for so many years at all that never came back to me from that man. And that is the entire fact here. I loved someone for 12 years who I believe now never truly was in love with me. Sure he loved me, he cared about me because I provided a child and a home and a family and something to belong to. We were two people raising a child, keeping food on the table and worrying about the electricity bill. We weren’t two people making love, holding hands, being happy to just have each other. We were never that.

R and I…it was something far more. I remember the first night I met him, I had this need to stand closer to him. I had this need to be closer to him. I wanted to open up his flesh and wrap myself in him like a huge blanket that would give warmth. His hands..his arms…his laughter. I remember he told me what he was looking for and I doubted that I could be all of those things for him. He had faith in love and life and wanted to share his life with someone good and real. I remember not wanting to be another girl on that list of disappointments. And yet….and yet…

So last night…my arms around him…I wondered if it’s all too late. I wondered if I have lost everything. I feel hollow without possibility. I am scared that all’s been lost. I’ve been afraid to go to the clinic and hear words I dread. I have wanted just for a few days to revel in all that might have been. I want to have his child and fear that I’ve already lost it. There was so much blood last week...and I was supposed to go to the doctor on Monday and didn't go so I could go to the D.A. I haven't been able to just face it all.

I want to be his everything and make up for all that I never openly gave. It’s all there under the surface of my ribcage. It’s all there dying to break out and envelop him in everything I should have done from day one. I hate myself for disappointing him. I hate myself for being afraid to love him completely for so so very long. I hate myself for so many things. And yet….I believe he still loves me and that one glimmer of hope is the thread with which I cling to…knowing that if I keep following my heart, listening to my soul that maybe I can untangle the past and knit a future that’s more beautiful than any fairy tale either of us has read.

I want to build from all that I have learned. I want to take back every mistake and repaint a masterpiece far better than his eyes could ever have imagined. I have so many sentences to construct and yet mostly all I ever want to say when it’s 3 a.m. and the sheets are clinging to my empty arms...is I love you...I love you...I love you...please find your way back to me...

7:51 p.m. ::
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