Red Rot ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I found Quinn's journal from 1993. He was 11. "Don't spend your time looking around for something that can't be found." He quoted the Jungle Book. He was in love with Wendy Jackson. Fuck you Wendy Jackson. Fuck me, pathetically sad shell of who I used to be. Emma's going to London Tuesday, and I'm cleaning out my closets. Literally and figuratively. I feel really strange and disconnected all of the time. I still don't know how to deal with my life. I find myself doing deep breathing exercises and escaping to bathrooms to hold it together. I find myself being managed by appointments, work, friend get-togethers. Maybe this is good because it keeps me moving. Maybe this is bad because I'm not processing my humiliating grief. I think I need to be alone to let some of this out. And I fear being alone. I fear letting myself go and never being able to put myself together again. God, I'm feeling so weak-willed. I'm still doing everything I was doing before, but I don't have faith the way I once did. I'm grappling to hold onto hope. At Bonnie's baby shower today I just wanted a stiff drink and a lobotomy. I'm understanding Eunice for the first time, where it's crushing to be around other people's happiness. I don't want to be sad for me anymore. I don't want to second-guess my marriage or deconstruct why it didn't work or whether or not we ever had a good thing or what I could have done differently. I want to be happy for you and your beautiful growing families. I want to believe that one day I'll be going forward too. 7:26 p.m. - 2012-04-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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