Monday, Oct. 13, 2003 - 4:17 a.m.
Cost of the War in Iraq
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
Toenails and Dogs and Bikes
I am just so fucking sad.
Goddamn fucking sad.
My brain is just not cooperating with this breakup. Whenever I just am doing things, I have thoughts, just normal thoughts, about things that my brain still thinks are "reality now" which just arent... thinking about ob's mom, and thinking of a conversation with her in the future. WILL NOT HAPPEN. Thinking of her friend/ex and their garage, and talking with the ex, and going through stuff in the garage... my mind drifts into the fun of going through the boxes of vinyl records and books and laughing over them, maybe having a garage sale. WILL NOT HAPPEN. My mind thinks of what books to read to ob on the Dart when I pick her up from work, her head on my shoulder to listen. WILL NOT HAPPEN. My mind thinks of ob here in Montreal going to restos I have picked out of a book to try with her. WILL NOT HAPPEN. My mind drifts into the shops we go to together in SF. WILL NOT HAPPEN. The streets, her house, going to the gym with her. WILL NOT HAPPEN. Laughing about people on the bus. WILL NOT HAPPEN.
And on and on. Her pretty eyes, the feel of her arms flinging around me when I step off the bus. Her doing my toenails...the polish is almost gone now. My mind keeps betraying me with these feelings of ob being in the present and the future. When she is in the past.
And suddenly it just comes WHOMPING over me, that is ALL OVER. DONE. FINISHED. NO MORE. No conversations. No Detroit. No San Fran. No Musicfest. No Toronto. No sm conferences. No sex. No playing. No photos. No emails. No presents. No phone calls. No family. No sharing. No future plans. No Cuba. No movies, shopping, eating, sleeping together. GONE GONE GONE.
At least my subconscious dreaming mind is on the ball. I keep having dreams where she gives me the cold shoulder. Blank face. Not caring. Hard. Closed. Turning away. Leaving me there lost. So at least my dreaming mind is with the fucking program.
I am so fucking sad.
It is so much easier to break up with dykes who think i'm a pervert, with men who think i'm a dyke. With people who don't have plans with me, with people where we already have no sex life, no conversation, no sharing, no understanding.
But it is so so hard to feel dismissed by someone who was your best friend. Sharing and relaxed and fun and sexy and silly and loving and supportive and interesting and multifaceted. So so hard.
I feel like WHY WHY WHY wasnt I good enough for you. Couched in language of "you deserve better than me" as though it was me you judged too good. But it was the opposite wasnt it. I wasnt good enough. You wanted someone who was known in the community, someone with experience domming, someone who was confident and accomplished, someone with a foreign accent, or in the newspaper. Someone with a shiny black car, or connections in a cool dyke city. Someone with important engagements, who was busy, and was written up in International Domme magazines. Someone with costume changes and boots that were so important they needed worshiping, and someone with an entourage, and stories of firefighting in Europe.
And I was just someone you felt pretty much equal to you. And therefore I was to wait while you gave your time to someone more important. And i was to help you move while someone else was busy with important things. And I was to iron your shirts, and get the housekey and do your dressing and makeup while you ironed someone more important's clothes, and got their housekey and helped with their dress and makeup. And I was to travel to you, while you travelled to someone more important. Fuck and fuck and fuck. Someone you owed "an honest accounting" to. Unlike me. Someone important enough to negotiate with. Unlike me. Fuck and fuck and fuck again.
Unfortunately other than crying, that is what comes out. Fuck and fuck and fuck. So wellspoken.
I am so sad. And so not understanding. And so disbelieving that you would choose to let me go, to fuck me around so that I left, when we were so so fucking good.
A fucking traffic accident with the victims splayed about with their hearts broken.
Here is your horoscope for Sunday, October 12:
Since when is Leo the final judge of right and wrong? Your opinions are strong, but in the end they're just opinions. Bow to custom instead of breaking it. If you offend someone, he or she will stay that way.
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Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
*inspired by Chaosdaily