the sound of the other shoe dropping. oct 15th.


this is what i was waiting for. only there aren't really tears. i wish there were, so i could just get it over with.

i had a panic attack in the car coming back from delaware today.

i blame it on the brain-heart barrier.

i know. i KNOW for certain. i do not want to be with coffee.

and i know. also for certain. i want this thing with ever to be over for real.

i knew that i would feel something eventually. it would be so much easier if i had words for what it even is that i feel.

i feel sick in the pit of my stomach. i feel sad. but i don't have words for why.

i guess, in driving today, that i figured out parts of it. because i know the next short story i'm going to write. i figure that if i wrote all this fiction about what i thought would happen with coffee before this summer happened to me, i should probably write a fictionalized account of what ended up happening.

because this is the thing. the story i wrote about running away with him? that girl is doing that with him now. and i think that more than anything, that is what is fucking with me.

it's not that i want to be with him, or run away and play house with him. however, getting him out of home town is probably the only way to keep the relationship without the jealousy and worry i would have felt, with him running amok in home town with girls. i probably could have handled him away from all those girls of his past and present. that was really the root of the reasons i don't want anything to do with him anymore.

it's the death of a dream, though. one that kept me going and inspired when my marriage sucked.

it's the embarrassment i feel when i think about the time i told nina, through tears in a chat late one night after ever had passed out, that i still cried for coffee. because of what i thought it would be like to be with him, and the fact that i could do nothing at the time. it's the same embarrassment i feel when i prayed (or something like it) in that post for there to be a dog fight that his dog won.

all that happened is that there was nothing to my tears over him, my marriage ended regardless of him, and he lost part of a pinky finger in the dog fight. and she didn't move out as a result.

and i guess the reason this all happened to my brain today is because, if i went home right now, and went to all the places he goes, there would be a coffee-sized hole. because they are not there anymore. they really moved. they did it. they ran away to start a life together.

he is gone. and though it will most likely not be forever, it's for a long, long time.

and i love that i'm going home regardless. i love that i'm still as excited about my trip in december. and by then, i'll probably be grateful to not worry about how i look or what i'm wearing, because i won't have to worry about having a run-in with coffee.

but at the same time, something i thought i wanted for something like thirteen years is now gone. i can't revisit it and rekindle it. i can't do anything about it. i tried.

and i know that i got closure. i know that i said what i needed to say, and that he had nothing to say. and that solidified the closure.

and all that any of it makes me feel and think is that i should have kissed him in december when i had the chance. or at least told him in december when i had the chance.

all i can do now is to make a promise to myself to never hesitate. ever again. never wait for the perfect opportunity to present itself. because if there is one thing i know about myself, i used all of my assertiveness on leaving ever. and that is as close to being assertive as i'll ever get.

so it's friday. it's seven. i just ate my first bite of food for the day. and had a couple beers with dinner. and now i'm in pajamas in bed. the tea that went out every night, staying out late and living it up, is a thing of the past. i'm feeling like i'm punishing myself, even though i'm not.

staying in on a friday. thinking about my failed marriage and all the boys i cannot have. hot bartender showed up right before we left. and i just wanted to SMELL him. just give him a long, heady sniff. he's as good as married. i just want to know what he smells like.

you know, just once, i think i'd like to think a boy was hot at the bar, and him smile or talk to me. something. anything to make me feel better than this.

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