Wednesday, November 30, 2005
An expression of utter confidence and a slight blush at the silent acknowledgement of what hasn't been said. So, he thinks I'm smart. Good.
Today I read this: "There are ghost women in my life, exerting their supernatural influence over me. One moment, they're silently stalking in old hardwood-floored corridors of memory, the next they're invisible but laughing, sighing, whispering, or moaning in distant echoes of sexual pleasure long ago spent. Sometimes, I can't tell the difference between them and the real ones."
It took my breath away for a second. Only for a second. I wanted to speak to you. Immediately. I felt the most gut-wrenching urge like crying and holding on for dear life, and then I was able to let it go.
I had to be the one to break the news to J that the "orbs" she found were actually Christmas lights. She wants so desperately to believe and to have her beliefs validated. It was like telling a small child that the Tooth Fairy died.
It's a shame that this kid won't look at me, but I say he has my number and I leave it at that. Sometimes I really really really care and then I remember the downward spiral and how miserable it made me and how much happier I will be once I've gotten it out of my system and forgotten. Though it really is a shame, because he does have my number.
It is snowing. My bike has been rendered useless by the cold, i.e. the back brakes are jammed and pedaling is ten times more difficult than it should be. I should go to bed, but I've resigned myself to not sleeping much this week or next.
Today I read this: "There are ghost women in my life, exerting their supernatural influence over me. One moment, they're silently stalking in old hardwood-floored corridors of memory, the next they're invisible but laughing, sighing, whispering, or moaning in distant echoes of sexual pleasure long ago spent. Sometimes, I can't tell the difference between them and the real ones."
It took my breath away for a second. Only for a second. I wanted to speak to you. Immediately. I felt the most gut-wrenching urge like crying and holding on for dear life, and then I was able to let it go.
I had to be the one to break the news to J that the "orbs" she found were actually Christmas lights. She wants so desperately to believe and to have her beliefs validated. It was like telling a small child that the Tooth Fairy died.
It's a shame that this kid won't look at me, but I say he has my number and I leave it at that. Sometimes I really really really care and then I remember the downward spiral and how miserable it made me and how much happier I will be once I've gotten it out of my system and forgotten. Though it really is a shame, because he does have my number.
It is snowing. My bike has been rendered useless by the cold, i.e. the back brakes are jammed and pedaling is ten times more difficult than it should be. I should go to bed, but I've resigned myself to not sleeping much this week or next.
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