my heart forever more holds still.
happy birthday, phelpsie!
you blind me. and i honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.
i want to keep reading the endless story underneath your clothes.
wasting time around the house ‘til my boys come over for a belated birthday dinner tonight.
happy birthday to meee!!!
I was fine last night and all day today.
Then, just one little instance of longing. One little feeling of “Damn. I can’t wait ‘til I wake up from my nap and he really is right there.”
…and it’s all out the window.
I miss you so much it hurts a new way every day.
but there’s just moonlight on my bed.
i can’t imagine loving anyone else the way i love you.
and i can’t think of a time when i won’t love you.
i just wish there was a way for me to prove to you that i would and could never hurt you. it’s just an impossibility.
i need more horror nights nowww!
hello there, the angel from my nightmare.
i love the beach. i love showers. oh, and, i still love him most. yep. not gone yet.
get out of my head and climb into my bed.
i’m pushing up daisies…i wish they were roses.
four p.m. to nine p.m.
but still in love.
still very much in love.
fuck. this is just rough. so fucking rough.
- Russy: Daddy, you got your tickets?
- Rev. Run: Tickets? Tickets to what?
- Russy: The gun show.
be my friend. hold me. wrap me up. unfold me. i am small and needy. warm me up and breathe me.
i lied. it’s too fucking hot out. i need a body of water stat.
i’m embracing the sweltering heat with good tunes, okay beer, and a new swimsuit in my backyard.
(704 ): I got so high last night I started crying because i couldn’t stop thinking about how scary space is
i don’t believe that anybody feels the way i do about you now.
GIGGLY GOO: when i was a child, i wanted things that did not exist. actually, i still want things that do not exist. i loved the Berenstein Bears books. there was a christmas edition where it listed toys that the kid bears wanted. sister bear wanted a many things, but most intriguing to me was the moldable snot green goop called “GIGGLY GOO”. i asked my parents for it. i did not understand when they said it was not “real”…how could it not be real? it was in this book, this cartoon book right in front of me. i could make all sorts of snot sculptures and figures. endless fun. the burning desire for this ficticious slime drove me insane. i would think about it at night, lying in the bed. one year, i got some slimy squishy blob that, when squeezed into its container, would make a fart sound. it proved to provide hours of fun. even when covered in hair and dirt. but it never filled the Giggly Goo void.
ANNIE: when i was 4ish, i wanted Annie to come over and have a sleep over. again, my poor parents had to break the news that she was not “real”. it pissed me off…this “not real” thing. i just thought Annie was a bitch and did not want to come over. at one point, my parents told me the girl who played annie (what????) was probably much older than me at the present time anyway, and it would not be fun for me. this was baffling to me.
why am i plagued with this want for things that do not exist? maybe one day, 8 year old Annie will come to my door with a jar of Giggly Goo and all my dreams will come true. maybe.
I am fairly certain that I have decided this will be the best way to go about this. It’s the first time in these past almost two weeks that I have felt content about everything. I know seeing you and touching you will probably ruin me all over again but it’s a chance I have to take. I also know fighting you and guilting you will not work. (Even though a tiny shred of hope left in me thinks it might…) So, as of now, this is what I’m going to do. And even though it’s still going to hurt so horribly and I’m sure I will change my mind a million times and wish everything could just go back in time again, it is what it is. I think if I do it this way, it will be the most peaceful it can be.
So, there you have it. I am trusting you that you know what is best for you. And letting you know that if you realize you made a mistake, I will be here with open arms.
This is what love is, I suppose.