today was a day of crying.
starting this morning when i woke up and got the package from my mom.
then i went on my girl date, which was awesome.
and going through 'my story'.
which meant that i thought about and reprocessed again, the ever stuff and the coffee stuff. we were telling the stories of how we knew that it was over, because of how someone else made us realize that we were capable of feeling. excitement, butterflies, feelings. eyes open. i'm not dead. feelings.
missed the wallet both on the way there and out, and didn't go tonight, so whatever. maybe i'll just go next friday. there's really nothing in it that i need anyway.
so i went home, and kit stopped over. and i ended up going to her place and then watching the second half or so of the notebook.
gawd, that movie.
i knew from watching it once before that it was incredible. and a heartbreaker.
but i forgot the end portion, and the end end.
and the thing is? i think all this crying today is mourning a loss. and though i'm tempted to say that this is my processing coffee being gone before i go back to visit next, i can't really say that it is.
it's more the loss of the idea of it. the loss of the idea of being in love and the idea of a hopeless romantic being out there for me.
the loss of the hollywood ending.
revisit saturn. the fictionalized non-fiction version i wrote about my encounter with coffee in december.
it's the loss of the idea that i had been waiting all that time for something. for him, specifically. and hoping that he had been thinking of me, too.
and though i figured it out in june/july when i was home, he didn't wait for me or want me. he didn't think of me, and certainly not like that.
there was just nothing. and i always wanted there to be something.
but there just isn't.
and when i get really honest with myself, i left ever thinking that something like that could be for me. waiting. and i'd be lying if i didn't say that i wanted to jump straight into a makeout session with coffee as my rebound. make all that time and suckiness and heartache and lost time worth it.
despite trying to keep myself out of situations where rebounds would be occurring.
and because i don't have it, i think i cried tonight a little for that.
because the notebook, the lines, 'i waited for you for seven years. why didn't you write me?', and then, 'i wrote every day.'
it's kinda how i had hoped it would go. i know i could have said those things. but there's no one waiting for me.
and then, tonight, discussing sufjan stevens with nina, i realize that he reminds me of the sun. and i can't even let my mind wander there.
but, suffice it to say, i'm recycling again. and not in the green way. in the, how did my life end up here? how did things not work out for me before? will i ever get sick of not getting what i want, when i want it? will i ever find love again? will i want to?
i hope i still want to.
i hope things start to look up soon.
i just need a bone. ding.
just something small to make me happy for a week and to get me through a few more.
no big deal.
and i'll start trying to convince myself that i don't want that, and that i wouldn't know what to do with it if i had it.
because i still have six months, i think.
and because i need to be alone.