Monday, 23 November 2015


Bad weekend. 

Back soon.

Saturday, 21 November 2015

A Picasso or A Garfunkel

So Anne asked the other day if I'd show any of the art pieces I've been making.

This one, I actually did a couple of weeks ago but I've been sitting on it (well, no, not literally, I just mean I haven't posted it anywhere) because I created it when I was feeling really really mad at Max, and titled it when I was really really mad at Max and I didn't want to post it anywhere he or someone he knows might see it because that felt somehow, to me, like I would be trying to send a message or seeking attention or something.  So I haven't shared it.

But I like it.

It looks so much better in person, this photo does it no justice at all, really...... I'm not just saying that.  But yeah... this is "The Amount I Hate You Is Inversely Proportional To The Amount I Love(d) You"

Yeah.  That.

It's actually fairly large, at 14x16 inches (the largest pad I have, which I bought in a "I'm sad so I'm going to shop at the art store even though I really can't afford it right now" spree.... I've had a few... sigh) and is pastel, acrylic and ink.

The pastels and ink mix really nicely texture wise so are probably something I'll use together again; ink being fairly new to me and something I discovered I love almost accidentally when I started to use an ink brush pen I'd not previously liked in an entirely new way.  Like a brush.  (Duh, I know.)

I bought some oil paints this week but haven't opened them yet and am telling myself I really should just return them and the specialized canvases and cleaner I bought too and just use the supplies I already have.  But I also feel a little embarrassed to go back to the store and return a bunch of stuff.  But oils are... tricky... and can be unhealthy and stuff so.... I should... like... not.


But, yeah, there you go Anne... an abstract random piece I made when I was having a particularly bad moment.

Friday, 20 November 2015

Not A Good Story

Last night, while I was reading my book in bed, an utterly unrelated memory came back to me.

I really have no idea why it came to mind, nothing I was reading had any triggers or reminders but I all of a sudden found myself thinking of the one time I was taken by ambulance to the hospital.

Here's how I remember the events...

I'd gone out for drinks with my co-workers, and we were in a local, fun bar where you'd eat peanuts and chuck the shells on the floor.

In my mind, I'd had at most two beer.

I say this because I had had my beer or two and I needed to pee.

So I went up to the bathroom to pee and the next thing I knew, the paramedics were standing over me, asking me my name because I was on the floor in the bathroom stall where I'd been found and 911 had been called.

I was taken to the hospital and my stomach was pumped, or I was given charcoal, I don't remember and I kept insisting it must have been something I ate that made me so sick because I knew I hadn't had that much to drink.  My parents were called and came to pick me up and I think they were horrified that I'd drank myself into this state and I was pretty embarrassed by the whole thing and I think I just tried to put it away and not think about it.

It came up a number of years later when someone asked if anyone had ever been in an ambulance.  I said that yes, I had, but I didn't know exactly why and that's when someone asked if I thought something had been put into my drink.

I..... hadn't thought of that.  It wasn't something that was talked about at the time this happened, and it wasn't something that I knew anything about at the time so I always just thought that I'd eaten something bad or something.

But last night, when I started thinking about it again, I got quite upset.

I got upset because I really don't know what happened.

I think I had a beer or two. And even if I hadn't, even if I'd had more, I've never in my life drank so much I've blacked out.  I've had so much to drink that I've started to feel sick and had to throw up, sure.  I've had so much to drink that I've misplaced things (keys, ID) but never have I had so much that I lost consciousness.

Did I have way too much to drink and just not remember?  I suppose it's possible.  Maybe we did shots or something and I don't remember that and the shots kicked in from the time I got up to go to the bathroom and hit me that fast?  Maybe.  Maybe I just drank badly and it hit me and I thought I was going to be sick, lowered myself to the ground to throw up and then passed out?  I don't know.

But what if someone put something in my drink with the intent of doing harm?  What if my going to go pee is what saved me from something far worse than being embarrassed for having to be taken to the hospital for "drinking too much"?

The truth of it is, I'll never know.

I'll never know if I did it to myself or someone else did it to me and I'll just have to be thankful that nothing bad happened to me and that I was taken care of and yeah....

Odd what the brain comes up with out of seemingly nowhere, eh?

Thursday, 19 November 2015


I'm writing this quite happily (technically last night as I'm setting it to post in the morning) after yet another filling at the dentist.

I'm happy because, first of all I like this dentist so much better than my old one and I didn't dislike my old one but man oh man.  This guy, the needle didn't make me cry or even particularly hurt, and then he keeps checking in on how I'm doing during all the procedure.  And he really notices things like maybe pulling on the side of my cheek and says, hey, sorry about the pulling on the side of your cheek, are you ok there?  It's awesome.  So I feel like he actually cares and is aware that it can be uncomfortable and on top of that is trying to make it less so.

And I'm happy because this particular freezing didn't affect my tongue so I still feel normal!  And can eat!  And drink!  And everything!

And it didn't hurt!  So yay! 

Turns out this filling took longer than he'd hoped (he wasn't sure if it was a cavity or a "stain"? from the metal filling) so he didn't do the two he's planned on so I have yet another filling appointment next week.

Which makes it one a week all of this month.  Which is not too terribly cool, but hey, I'm really really glad it's not worse.

He's not too sure what's happening, ie if it's my bite or poor flossing (he doesn't think so, says my oral hygiene is good) or old (or possibly not so awesomely done) fillings that have lost their seal and allowed bacteria to come in underneath them.  Sigh.  Here I was thinking fillings were... permanent.  But no... they're not.

So kids?  Brush and floss and do it more than you think you need to.  After every meal would be best.  And if you're like C-Dawg who has never had a cavity, count yourself very very lucky and brush and floss anyway. 


But, yeah.  This filling?  Not so bad man.  HURRAY!!!!

Wednesday, 18 November 2015


I was just here typing a message out to my brother when I realized how weird typing is.

Like.... my fingers are doing something without me having to think about it and they're making words.  It's... not entirely conscious, like I'm not thinking about where my fingers should go they just know.

I took typing in high school, my Mom "made" me (is how I remember it... could have been she just strongly suggested it) and it was not the most fun course ever but man if I'm not glad I did it.  I'm a pretty fast typer.  But still... it's weird.

Look... my fingers made these words!  Kind of all by themselves!  Although the more I think about it the harder it ends up being to do it properly because they get all weird like I'm watching them.

One of my favourite things to do to freak people out is to keep typing as I turn to listen to them and have a conversation with them and they're like HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?

Magic, my friends....magic.

*wiggles fingers*

Tuesday, 17 November 2015

Yeah, Not...Really

Yeah, no I'm not really back back... I mean, I'm exhausted and my mind is all over the place with everything and I'm totally out of the particular habit that is writing this way and here and I don't feel like I'm in any sort of a groove with it.  Or much of anything for that matter.

Part of that is all the whatever I'm not talking about and the space that's put me in.  I suppose I could keep it vague and just say that I'm questioning a lot of things right now.  And it's an unsettling feeling.  And I'm not openly talking about much of what's going on.  Sure, there are a couple of key people who are aware and yes, I'm talking to a counsellor type person but in general, this all is being kept close to my vest... chest... whatever the saying is.

Which is fine in some ways, but also sort of feels tight.  That makes sense in my head.  Like I'm keeping it all in a box because it's easier that way but I'm also a little bit in that box myself because of it.

Everything's weird and I'm day by day on keeping myself in a decent headspace and looking beyond maybe a week ahead pretty much just results in panic.  Or upset at least.  Overwhelm.

Still don't have the faintest idea what was running through Max's head.  Or what next summer will end up looking or feeling like.

And work.  Not talking about work (don't talk about work) but it's... yeah.  It's a lot of what's going on right now.

That, and wanting to change decades of mental, emotional training, habits and patterns.

Which is incredibly tiring in and of itself.  Never mind the rest of it.

It would have been delightful to still have had a Christmas holiday to look forward to.

But, really... not thinking about that today.  Too much upset gets brought up with that, I'm just saying.  Something nice to look forward to would be perfect right now.  You know?

Monday, 16 November 2015

Right, Monday

Right, hi, blog.  Forgot?

No, didn't forget, just other stuff got in my way and then I... didn't.  So will try.  This week.



Friday, 13 November 2015

Look, It's A Baby Deer Butt

I've tried, I really have, to take time in those neutral or positive moments to sit and write but it seems whenever I have the time and inclination to write all I am is angry or whiny or sad and I just don't want to be writing that sh*t down right now.

I've been painting a lot.  Creating.  I have other things going on that I still haven't talked about here.  Hint... I don't talk about work.... hint.... I may have to.

I watched the Fear of the Walking Dead. (Spin off... prequel to The Walking Dead) Liked it.  But, as often happens when an entire season is out, now I miss the characters.  Had a dream about two of them last night.  Go figure.  Brain wants to know more.  Short season too.  British style.

The gentleman who bought a print of my art this summer (assuming I mentioned that?) wants to buy another so I should actually stop typing and go find a shipping container... tube... thing.

Finding myself needing a balance between resting and distracting myself from what's going on and dealing with it as best I can.  And trying to be gentle with myself.

Some days are better than others.  As are some moments.

I found a good enough moment here for this. 

Hope you have great weekends.

Wednesday, 11 November 2015


It's Remembrance Day, time to pause and remember those who chose to serve and those who gave their live in that service. 

I wish conflict didn't exist, but it does, and people choose to stand for what they feel is right.

Tuesday, 10 November 2015

Dentally Speaking

So the dentist.  I've talked about it before (although when I tried to type in a search for "dentist" it took me three tries to spell it properly.  Go figure, thanks brain.) but yeah, it's not exactly my most favourite thing.

My new dentist, however, is good and I'm glad I made the change.

I bring this up because yesterday was the second in three visits I'll be making to the dentist this month alone, all to deal with fillings, which, I know I've been told there are worse things than fillings, so I'm trying to be grateful and thankful.  And I am... that I'm able to have my teeth taken care of.  This is really just whining, I suppose.

When I met this new dentist, I told him that the needles (for freezing) is the part I really don't like.  I don't have a fear of needles or anything, but getting that freezing always hurts, and seems to go on hurting forever, and then you get all weirdly numb and it feels like your tongue is the size of a grapefruit and then you're frozen for the rest of the day and can't swallow or chew right and then the needle spot often hurts for days after, more than the work that was done, so the needles part of the dental work?  Not my favourite.

So I mentioned to him that that was my worst part and he started trying to make it better.

Like yesterday, he asked me again, so it's the needle that's your worst part, eh?  And I said yes, it was.  (That and the breathing...) And so he now, when he's putting in a needle, goes super slowly, which is a mixed blessing, but in the end makes it hurt less, even if it feels like he's taking hours to put the freezing in.  But he also asks.  He asks how I'm doing and instead of just suffering through, I grunt if I'm not ok. And you know what he does?  He changes position slightly so I'm more comfortable.  It... blows my mind.  And yesterday?  The second needle he put in?  I didn't feel at all.  I mean, I knew he was there and doing it and all that but there was no pain with it and no discomfort.  It was like a small miracle.

I guess I wonder now if I could have had the needles hurt less if I'd indicated to other dentists that they were hurting.  Maybe just small adjustments from them would have stopped me from having the pain and the tears of previous needles, I don't know.  But now that I know that this new dentist is able to give needles that at least hurt less?  And maybe sometimes even aren't all that uncomfortable?  Well, that's something that I hope can continue, and it brings me relief.

I realized yesterday, that the other part of having the dental work done that I don't like is the... breathing... for lack of a better term.

Because when my mouth is frozen and half my tongue is frozen and football sized, I can't tell how much saliva is in my mouth.  And sometimes it feels like I'm choking.  Or am going to.  And that can make me feel a little panicky.  That and if the bib is too tight, or the mouth guard dam thing is too close to my nose or there are things up against my neck, I don't like that panicky feeling.  And in the past I've always just sat there and tried to suffer through.  This new dentist?  I'm trying to deal with it... I can't explain the details of how, but I just feel like it's going better.  They fold the dental dam way better so it's nowhere near my nose... they don't even use latex at all so I'm not dealing with irritation from that.  They ask how I'm doing, tell me how to indicate if I need suction, and maybe they even tip my chair back less, I don't know. 

I'm not saying it's fun.  Or that I'm happy about having three fillings three weeks in a row.  The day or five after aren't fun either but.... hey... at least we're dealing with things and hopefully can start to figure out why I keep getting cavities.  This dentist is wondering if I'm breaking them with biting too hard (I secretly think I may have to give up popcorn) and grinding (I know I do, and wear a thing at night for it) or if I'm missing with my flossing.  Which... I really do think I do well, or at least decently with my oral hygiene. 

So, yeah.  I guess I just wanted to make a metaphor of sorts that you don't have to suffer through things.  Like I did with my old dentist and needles for years.  Saying "ouch" or "I don't like that" might not change anything, but it might.  And it might make the suffering a lot less, or even stop.  You don't have to be tough and suffer through discomfort and pain.

Not just dentally speaking.

Monday, 9 November 2015


I don't want to talk about it.

Right now at least.

I think after the last week, my brain needs, or wants a break from thinking about it.

Or maybe just today.

No, I haven't spoken to him, no I don't plan on speaking to him, no I don't know what I'm going to do about anything relating to him.  Not even the flights.  Or next summer.  Or anything in between.

I just, right this minute, need a mental break from the ups and downs and everything in between of the last week of thinking about it.

Which means I have to figure out how to say something, or else this page will just remain stagnant.

I should probably get on that.

Friday, 6 November 2015

No Thanks

I've been somewhat ok this week but yesterday and today I've woken up pretty unhappy.

I'm going to blame it on hormones (those once a month ones) because that makes me feel like I at least won't feel this horrible forever and it'll pass soon enough.

So that's what I'm telling myself this morning, that it's maybe just an extra rough few days, not an indication of how I'm going to feel all of next week or month or anything like that.

Thursday, 5 November 2015

The Dwarves of Feeling - Angry

As I said, I keep cycling through different emotions and feelings about Max and his choice to end things.

When I read about it or sit to think or talk about it I'm generally hurt and sad, but when it's a little less close, one of the things I'll feel is angry, or mad.

And it's a funny one (when I'm not in it, when I'm in it, it's not funny at all) because I don't really know where I think I'm going with it.  I just get angry that he's done this and I get filled with this "well, I'll show him!" kind of feeling.

Show him, what, exactly, I'm not sure but I'll show him.

I had a vision of showing up at his camp next year and somehow proving to EVERYONE there that he's a big liar because he's not as nice as he says he is because if he was actually nice he'd not have told me whatever it is he told me and see?  You guys shouldn't like him because he'll break your heart too.

Well.... except, I mean... he didn't break my heart exactly, because I still actually love him and so it's not really easy to be mad at him and ok, so he didn't break my heart he just really really disappointed me and so you guys shouldn't let him smile at you and give you a hug because he might not actually mean it.  Yeah.  That!  I'll go... make them not like him.

Because then... uh.... because then he'll feel bad for hurting me... yeah... that.

Ok, so when I'm not RIGHT IN the anger, it actually makes no sense and when I'm right in the anger it's not something I want to write down and post online to be there forever but I do go through times of feeling angry.

Angry that he seems to be letting past hurts get in the way of what we had and could have had and wanted to have. 

Angry that he didn't try harder and angry if I feel that he gave up because I never give up.  So, angry that he's not me?

Angry that he's doesn't want to make this work when it was so good.

Angry at all the things he said and the plans he made that he has now taken away.

Angry that he got mad at me for getting upset and asking for support and consideration and yet he got upset and ended things.  How is that fair.

Angry that it's not fair.

Angry that this seems to have little to do with me and yet I still feel like if I'd been more perfect, or less... whatever, things would be how they were.

Angry that I now have to deal with Christmas and not getting away and the financial blowback from that.  Angry that that whole wonderful trip that was planned out and talked about and looked forward to got taken away for reasons I still don't really understand.

Angry that he kept saying he wanted to be supportive of me in whatever way he could and then... wasn't.

Angry that I now feel like I have to question what he said.

Angry that this is distracting me from what's going on in my life and the things I need to deal with right now.

Angry when I see him being happy and normal on social media (the curse of modern sanity and mental health) when I feel like he should be as miserable as he claimed to be when he broke things off.  (Even though I don't air my upset on social media either... other than this space, not on FB or the like....who said anger had to be rational?)

Angry that I bought a new suitcase for a trip I'm not going on anymore.  I really wanted to go on that trip.  Not to go, but for us to go together.  It hurts to think of why he wanted to do this trip; all the reasons and that whatever has come up for him around this relationship has taken all that away.

Angry that I cared and that seems to have been taken for granted.  Or something.  Rejected I guess, when I know it's good and true.

I know and understand that anger is a secondary emotion.  That this is actually about the hurt... the sadness.  I know this.

My anger towards Max is fairly short lived, and I'm wiser than to act on it (or at least have been so far... and don't expect that to change) but it's there, and it's not enjoyable and it doesn't make me feel any better except for a brief, fleeting moment.

Wednesday, 4 November 2015


I'm ok.

I mean, I'm not but I am.  You know?

I keep cycling through different feelings and emotions and some of them are a whole lot harder than others.  But I think the really hard ones are getting a bit fewer and farther between.

That or I'm just getting better at distracting myself.

But, yeah, I'm ok.  Ok enough. 

Depends on the moment, really.  Will try and wait for a good one to write some more.

Thanks for the hugs and kind words.  They help.

Monday, 2 November 2015

I Can't Think Of A Way To Soften The Blow

Max has ended things.

If that comes as a surprise to you, you can imagine how I feel.

I'm shocked, and confused, and hurt, and sad, and angry at times, and everything in between.  It was not one of my favourite weekends.

I knew things had shifted slightly when I had the anxious, unhappy weekend, because Max was quite firm in handling it and I heard from him less frequently from then on.  I tried to stay positive and calm because after all, we had such a wonderful, really strong connection and feelings for each other and were going to see each other over the holidays, it was just a glitch.  Something to be worked out once we could reconnect.

I've had a lot going on in my life and world right now (even if I haven't talked about it here quite yet), and so I just put any worries about Max and I aside.  Just focussed on how good I felt about us and how great it would be to see him in December.
Two weeks ago, Max texted me that he wasn't feeling great.  I asked him what was wrong and he told me he was missing his daughters (he shares custody with his ex wife) and so I gave him space and let him know I was there for him and thinking about him.

It felt, quite honestly, like I was single, mentally, because I wasn't expecting to hear from him.  Which was easier than wanting to hear from him and not.  But in my heart I just kept thinking of that feeling of the two of us together and how happy we both were.  And I put the rest aside until we could hug and hold each other again in just about two months.  A little bit less.

I checked in with him at the end of last week and he asked if we could talk later.  I said sure, and asked if he was ok.  He said no.  I asked him if it would help if I could come visit him next month (I thought perhaps a weekend away for us to help each other through the rough time we both seemed to be going through would do us both a world of good) and he said no.

I told myself, staying positive, that he was just having a rough time.  Missing his daughters, and all the things that go on with single parenting and all those things.  I told myself that it probably wasn't about me.  And that we'd see each other soon enough.  I just had to make it until then.  I mean, he'd put so much effort into our trip already, no way that was in jeopardy.

Because, really, he had the most wonderful trip planned.  From the airport to the grocery store for gluten free snacks and treats and then to a spa for treatments he'd already arranged and then our own room with a fireplace and hot tubs.  Days of potentially snow filled driving (he'd arranged for a 4x4 rental) and place after place for us to take photos, including all the old car lots he'd found, seeing as we both like to shoot old cars.  He'd asked me what places I'd most like to visit and those were on our itineraries.  A wonderful sounding traditional Christmas Eve, and probably even a white Christmas.  And then a day with no plans, so we could just spend time together if we didn't want to drive and shoot and then home.  Perfect.  And all that time to talk and learn more about each other and soft beds and six days of togetherness.  Enough to get us through til the next time we could arrange a visit.

And we'd already talked about next summer.  Burning Man.  Me staying with him and his camp.  All of that.  All of it. 

So while I was concerned that he was going through something, I promised myself that my worries were just that... worries.  No way was the "bad voice" telling me he didn't love me anymore right.  No way the worries that told me he might cancel our trip were right.  No, I'm changing those negative thought patterns.  This has nothing to do with me, he's just having a bad time.

Except, well... yeah.

Max called me Saturday morning and told me that he can't sustain this relationship.  That I had triggered some things from his past that he just can't turn off.  And that he had to pull out of the trip.

I honestly wish I could remember the conversation.  Not so that I could drag it out here, just so I could go over it and actually hear what he said because I feel like it's just a whining buzz in my ear when I try to think back on it.

I was surprised.  Shocked, really.  And I asked if he could just wait on Christmas, til things had settled and he was perhaps feeling better but he said no.

I tried to talk to him, I don't know why or about what because as I said to him it was like talking to a brick wall. I could feel him sitting there just waiting for me to be done so he could get off the phone.  I even told him I knew that was how it worked.  That the guy got up the balls to call the girl to break up with her and knew that he then had to sit there and listen to her be upset for a while and he laughed... yeah.. kind of. I said a few more things to him, I was calm, really, but I felt pretty unfairly treated and disappointed and I don't believe it's fair to say the things that were said and then have such a quick and complete change of heart.  That's not ok.  But he wasn't able to listen and excused himself from the call.

And.  Well.  Shock.

I'm familiar with it now. 

I sent a few messages out to people, letting them know, knowing I would need support in dealing with this, and to be honest you guys, Saturday was awful.

C-Dawg was lovely.  Showed up unannounced on my door with trashy magazines and gluten free cookies and bread and mini Oh-Henry's and the natural pop I like and some tea.  I'd already cried myself dry, I thought but having her there and giving me a hug, I lost it all over again.  "There," she said "now you don't have to leave the house.  But you have to eat.  Promise me!"

I promised her, but I didn't actually manage to.

My brother threatened to come over and sit in my place but I begged him not to.  I was right on that edge of wanting/needing company and just desperately wanting to be alone.

At some point in the day I started to feel like I was going to be sick, so I put myself to bed, but the landlord knocked on the door to give me a rent increase notice (ha!) and so I had a bath instead of trying to sleep, or whatever I intended by going to bed.

I had a salt-water bath, actually (they apparently help cleanse toxins... no harm no foul) and realized I was probably quite dehydrated so I made myself drink some water post bath and that helped me feel better. 

I had some of C-Dawg's bread and cheese and cycled through feeling angry, lost, hopeless, sad, confused, kind of neutral, and absolutely horrified.  I think the worst was the moments where I would forget.

Because I've been dealing with so much, I'd just put "Max troubles" to the side and ignored them and looked forward to Christmas together.  So in the moments on Saturday when I'd distracted myself enough that I'd forget, there would be this moment of happy where I'd think about how much love I feel for him and how great it was going to be when I saw him on the airplane (we had a connecting flight together, go figure) and then I'd remember.  Bam.  Like a slap in the face or something equally shocking and painful.

And then... more panic.  What about Burning Man?  Because I'd asked him.  When we were on the phone.  "What about next summer?"  And he'd said, quite coldly I think, "well, it's Burning Man, if you're going to to, you're going to go."  Or something like that.  And right now, thinking about going to Burning Man and possibly seeing him makes me feel ill.  And it's a collapse of all those thoughts and plans we had already started making about next burn.  And those meant a lot.  Those were almost bigger than Christmas.  He'd rearranged his next year's burn to stay for temple for the first time.  To stay that much longer with me.  I was trying to figure out if I even needed to take a tent, seeing as I'd just be staying with him again.  Bam.  Gone.  Horrible feeling.

So right now, Burning Man is being put aside.  I mean, who knows if I'll even get a ticket this year.  I'm fully assuming the ticket Max promised he'd have for me if I didn't get one in sales is .... not.  So, I'll deal with it later.  Later.  Not now.  Because right now I have enough to deal with.  I can't even wrap my head around this.  And anything can change before Summer.  I don't mean us.  I think he's done.  But me.  Who knows.  It's ten months away. 

But this.

This is... I just don't get it.  I don't understand how you can have such a quick, complete turnaround.

Which means he's either a lot more broken than he thinks he is and he can shut off his emotions or he's just going through whatever "stuff" I triggered and that's taken over whatever good feelings he has/had for me.

So I... am not going to New Mexico for Christmas.  I hope to get at least some of my flight refunded, as it was already a stretch for me to make it happen.  I have to figure out what I AM going to do for Christmas, because part of my relief of having the trip was that it eliminated any possible drama around being here, with family, over the holidays.  And it was the one thing that I was keeping as my light at the end of the tunnel right now.  The good thing I was looking forward to in what is a tough time in my life and during what is not my favourite time of the year.

Sunday, other than not sleeping well, and waking up at the crack of 5:30 with the time change and being unable to fall back asleep due to panic that Max might actually go on the trip himself and then how would I ever forgive him for that, I had a better day than Saturday.

Eating's still not going very well, but I did take in calories and tried to keep my fluids up and I distracted myself and talked myself through any difficult moments and I thanked my friends and brother for checking in on me.  And I kept wishing that it was all a joke.  Honestly.  That I would wake up and realize it wasn't real.  That I still had Max and we were still in love and still going away together to be together in the dark part of the year.

I'm sorry.  I know you were happy for me.  I was too.  I really was.   And I wasn't wrong.  This I know.  I wasn't wrong about Max and I.  I wasn't wrong about how we felt.  And I wasn't wrong about never wanting to date anyone else. 

I don't.

Nothing will replace what I felt with him and from him.  Nothing.  I quit.  I'd rather be alone forever than settle for something less than what we had.

I'm sure you'll tell me that's just the grief talking, but I think that was a once in a lifetime connection.

And I don't understand what could be so upsetting that someone would give that up, over stuff that happened in the past.
Please don't steal stuff from here, it's not nice. But leave a comment, why don't cha? And drink more water. It's good for you.

P.S. If you think you know me? You probably don't. If you're sure you know me? Pretend you don't. I'll never admit I know what you're talking about anyway.

P.P.S. All this stuff is copyright from then til now (Like, 2006-2015 and then some.) Kay? Kay.