2003-05-12 - 11:33 p.m.
The enormity of what I’ve given up has finally fully hit me. I miss J. I don’t want him back, but I miss him. For such a long time I believed we’d be together for the rest of our lives. I want that back. I want the first two years back. I want to make love to him again in his tiny studio, flopped out on the dirty turquoise futon mattress. I want him to enter me for the first time, after we’ve drawn it out for a month, teasing each other. I want to come again while he’s inside me, so naturally that it’s like seeing the sky clear after rain. I want him to kiss the long scar on my back with the taste of my sex still on his tongue. I want him to fold me up in his arms and sleep, snore in my ear and wake me up with Peet’s coffee.
I want to still love him. I want him to still love me. And none of it will ever be again.
I know that it’s normal for me to be sad. I just thought I was done with it. I don’t miss the reality of him; I don’t miss what we became.
Give me time. I’ll get over this. I’m surrounded by loving people; I have friends and family who couldn’t be more thrilled that I’ve gone my own way. Much support, laughter and pure fun has come my way unexpectedly, and I’m grateful. (Bacci to you, sweet.) For now, just know that sometimes I’m crying. Sometimes I’m laughing. I’ve lost before. I’ll come back.
“…oh, what I won’t give/to have the things that mean the most/not to mean the things I miss…” --Indigo Girls
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former / latter