four hours of time to wind down before going to bed to get up for work is not enough.
day two. not fun.
i decided to go back through online photo albums today.
i got back to the trip home in december.
and from there, all the way back in time.
seeing ever in photographs, and things dated 03.23.03 made my stomach hurt.
everything is just so foreign to me now. it's crazy.
i keep feeling lately like he has joined forces with the web design guy and hacked into my email account or facebook account or something. anything.
maybe it's because of nina's friend's drama.
but i keep wondering if, because my email is through his business, he has access.
i've always been paranoid. my whole life. but this feeling is strange.
if he did, i sure hope he read the ecard nina sent me yesterday. it was the best one in a long time...
'my lawyer is going to fuck you more than i ever cared to'
i was DYING laughing on the phone with her when she told me she sent it.
anway, i wonder if the reason he is being such an asshole is because he knows what i'm really thinking. because he is reading it all.
i have been incredibly careful.
but just like how he flipped out over pictures that i eventually hid from his view, i worry that he is seeing something i didn't think to hide.
files i might have left on the computer at the house. or deleted but forgot to empty from the recycle bin.
i'm not a good liar. i never have been. i'm not good at covering my tracks.
and i never had a reason to until now.
i was talking to kit about him this weekend.
she said that ever was most likely able to see that his profile was viewed when that whole dating site thing happened, because i really want to know if he knows that i know about it. it makes me feel good to have this card up my sleeve for use at some later date when i need it.
only i don't think that i do. i feel like when i go to use the secret hidden card, i'll drop it or something. and he'll just laugh, because it was a joke. or a trick. without significance.
all i know is that the site is designed to show you who is looking at your information.
which is pretty scary, for future reference.
as far as i'm concerned.
it all makes me want to make up a fake profile and just snoop around.
but i also believe that it would keep me up at night, if i did that.
i don't want to know who is looking at me.
i don't want people to know that i'm looking at them.
everything is so weird right now.
everything at work is broken or breaking.
two things a day, on average. i'm up to six things since last friday. doors are falling off of things.
(this is another very scattered post. i'm trying to tie it together now, and i'm shaking my head at myself, because i can't even follow my thought process from last night!)
what nina is being subjected to, because of her choice in a friend, is out of control. it terrifies me, and it's not even my life. and i keep thinking of little shreds of what is happening to her friend, and wondering if it is happening to me, or could, or would. if ever would be so angry at any point to do something like that.
what's worse is that i'm so tired, i don't know if i'm overthinking or overreacting to things right now. and because i don't have to know, i can't remember if this is the time when hormones are making act all crazy, or if i'm just acting all crazy on my own accord. i've been off birth control since i guess february. i can't remember. so i have nothing to tell me when i'm naturally or artifically pissed off.
(i called it. eating everything in the house after day three of thinking 'man, i'm in a bad mood' is the dead giveaway. and being extra super tired...)
i'm so tired. completely exhausted.
and all i can think about, when i try to go to sleep at night, is coffee.
what if, just like my manic/depressive cycles, i have manic coffee/depressive coffee cycles?
i know i just wrote a week or two ago that i didn't think about him at all. i had other distractions. i literally did not think of him.
but, as always, that fades. and then i'm right back where i left off. which is where i cannot NOT think about him.
i really think about it for a few hours a night. two, maybe. possibly more. i mostly think about what will happen when i go home again.
tonight i ran into the picture my sister took of us talking.
and it's his SMILE. i cannot let go of it. it looks so real. it looks so genuinely happy. i know how i felt, lightheaded and giddy, talking to him.
but something else happened this week that i am both incredibly jealous of, and that has fucked me in the head, royally, in this aspect.
perhaps this is why the smile matters to me at all anymore, after the night he smiled it.
kit got a phone call. i hope she doesn't mind me posting this.
(if you do, tell me - i'll take it down)
she got a phone call. from this guy she was friends with nine years ago, or something like that.
they were like best friends, i think. but there was one night of making out somewhere back then.
and he called her, just sunday. as in a couple days ago.
and he told her that he is in love with her.
and that he can't be with anyone else, because all he can think about is that night nine years ago. all he can think about is her.
and he called her just to tell her that.
two days ago.
after being out of touch. for years.
and when i look at that picture of coffee, and when i think about that conversation wherein the photo was taken, i can kid myself into thinking he'd say something like that to me.
but when i'm laying in bed at night, awake, thinking about it, he never says that. at best, we end up curled up together in what i imagine his bed to be like. in the little fantasy, for lack of a better word.
there's no girlfriend to hide from. he just invites me over and we fall asleep like we did all those years ago.
and at its sexiest, i can only imagine his hand under the bottom of my shirt, on my bare belly. i can imagine kissing his neck, i know i did that once, but it was so subtle i don't know that he noticed. i was nuzzled, so...
but everything else? everything else is beyond what my little brain can even imagine.
so... why? why do i think that this is even what i want?
i honestly do not know.
i mean, i can't have some future boyfriend scenario when i can't even imagine making out or having sex with this guy. right? much less, how to conduct a boyfriend scenario when i live six states away. maybe if i kissed him one little time, i'd be able to imagine making out with him. and all it takes is one night of making out to starting thinking about getting carried away.
last night, i was wondering if he ever got over his hangups in bed. one of the things i loved about him was that he matched me in the inexperience department. i think sex scared him. and i was just a prude. but regardless, it was a priority to neither of us. and i'm sure we both lost our fair share of contenders because we wouldn't sleep with them.
but surely, at the brink of 40, he has to have gotten over it, right?
i mean, if i wasn't married, would i have?
something makes me think my answer is no. because here i am, almost not married, and i'm not over them.
and if i'm the same, in that respect, could he be, too?
what if i went home? what if i went home and told him that i am free? what if i went home and told him that i am free and that i think about him sometimes?
what if i called him up, like this boy who called kit, and said that i was in love with him?
I WOULD NEVER.
but i'm just playing pretend right now.
what if i did it?
i mean, there's only one way to know.
and i'm not willing to do that.
because, just like with kit, saying those words to someone doesn't mean that they feel the same way. not in the least. not that she thinks this boy is nuts or crazy, but it certainly shocked her, and from what i gathered in the three minutes she talked about it, she doesn't feel that way about him.
but if she chooses to tell him, he will know.
and that's the thing.
how do i say something that would put it out there, without putting it all on the line?
and more importantly, how would he react? would there be eight more years of not hearing from him? will i be 75 and going home looking for him?
and how could he not care enough to start a game with me, or friend me first, or call me, or anything, if he felt anything that remotely resembled interest?
the conclusion i repeatedly have come to is that he doesn't feel anything for me. except the rush of adrenaline thinking 'she still likes me. after all this time'.
before he knew that i was married, he could so easily have said something to me if he wanted to. if he thought about me as much as i think about him. or even if it was only one time.
even if it was just the slightest curiosity.
fairytale-ending tea wants to believe that there is SOMETHING. some hint of truth to what he said when he saw me, about so many good memories with me. and beyond that, wanting to make a few more.
but, obviously, he doesn't drudge up his past as often as i do, and obviously he didn't write books about me like i wrote about him. so he can't consult his notes like i can.
what am i going to do? i feel so lost over this thing.
i am terrified. i am so afraid of saying anything to him. in my little trying-to-fall-asleep-at-night scenarios, i never allude to any of this.
it's just us talking. about our lives and about our relationships.
but we never broach the subject of what the two of us had, if you could even call it that. more likely, what the two of us were afraid to attempt. and the fun we had while we didn't attempt it.
how do you tell someone that you settled, because you couldn't have them? because they never paid attention to you?
that's the bottom line for me.
do you tell them?
or do you leave it lurking below the surface, where it's been barely breathing for the last twelve years?
i can't do it.
i don't have a plan. perhaps it is my sagittarian spirit that refuses to plan for this.
but in one month from today, i will be taking off in an airplane. right now, exactly.
and two hours from now, in one month, i will be home.
and i have to say, that if i don't get this question of 'will you grab a drink with me' out of the way in those first four days i'm home, i won't do it.
i know it.
because the day i fly back is his birthday. and he has a lot of friends who will want to share it with him.
this might be the most poorly timed trip home ever, in that respect. but i couldn't time this trip around his birthday. i mean, i have spoken to him once in the last eight years.
how crazy am i?
what the fuck?
this week is about going through it all. with a fine tooth comb. shit with ever. shit with my emotional well-being, or lack thereof. and shit with coffee. i miss my shrink. work has fucked me over to where i can't go see her. and i feel like i need to. it's been a rough few weeks since i was there.
anyway, this is my last chance to really think about it before i act on it.
i have four weeks.
last night, i remembered heima.
my need to take it home in my new suitcase.
the fucking DESIRE i feel in my stomach to make him watch it with me.
to casually lean back on his chest. to maybe even hold his hand during the saddest parts, like i used to.
he wouldn't have to know that i'd been planning it for a year.
he wouldn't have to hear my heart beating out of my chest.
he wouldn't have to know that i'd be crying over him, not the music, when heysatan and the stone marimba parts played.
he wouldn't have to know anything.