July 28th, 2002


Laundry day

Walking through Shoprite late at night/early this morning, it was hard not to buy the little panda as thoughts flashed through my head. I had not resisted the last little trinket, but I had more money, more gas, and less time (so I thought) until payday. But this little panda stared at me, and I nearly gave in. Walking out of Shoprite, the smell of chlorine bleach reminded me of so many nights smelling her swimmer skin, and I nearly turned back in for the panda instead of walking to my car and crying. But, just like her mother, I was merely buying trinkets instead of making things right. Just like her mother. The sky was that beautiful sickly four or five in the morning color, the color explained so amazingly well in a fray.com story. That unhealthy grey, letting you know that something was wrong with the world for you to be seeing it.

I miss her.

Every time a car alarm is set, the short horn beep, I race to the window hoping it is her. It never is. Every time I see a dark Jetta on the road with New York plates, I speed up or slow down to see if it is her. It never is. Every time I wake up, I roll over hoping that mass next to me is her, instead of a pillow. It never is. Every time I wake up, I hope that this break up has just been a horrible nightmare. It is, but it's not going away.

I would do anything for her, except apparently listen or grow. I would do anything, I would give a kidney in a heartbeat. I would do the right things if I knew how, and I know she's mapped out what exactly she needed and I tried.. I've been trying, and I used up all of my chances. Every change or growth I asked of her, she made, and I didn't make as many. We failed, I failed. chiquib went off on me, about how I never hear anything except what I want to hear, and how I just didn't work right with my sweetie like I didn't belong with her. She suggested I need someone more fitting. Fuck that. I don't want someone who has no self-esteem and doesn't care that I'm a selfish asshole. I want a real decent human being, like they both were, and to treat them right. But that's where I fail. I'm not going to settle for a shallow pathetic wretch who puts up with me walking all over them, I've been there, I want a strong person who is their own person and not just the dregs on the bottom of my cup. A partner. But I'm not mature enough to handle that, I see.

I've downloaded every recent entry in her online journal, studying them. She suggested recently that perhaps I should be reading her online journal despite her not wanting me to. I have been, she knows this. I know she reads mine. The little 'I know he probably thinks' statement in a recent entry, I know she's reading. She says in one entry that she blames no one, and in another that she tried and maybe I tried too. Conflicting messages, me over analyzing everything, me being so full of questions and things to say, and no way to express it. I need to respect her wishes, no matter how much agony that leaves me in. This is not going easy. I wish I could just sit and talk with her, for one night. But she gave me many chances to do so, hundreds of chances, and I blew them all.

I miss her. I've lost one of the most precious things in my life, a most wonderful person.

Everyone's got their own perspective. Everyone's got their own advice. I'm just trying to see past my baggage, preconceived notions, and figure out what I need to do for myself.
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