it is monday night

quiet. the night is quiet. not 4am quiet, not the quiet that precedes the dawn, the stillness that comes between the activity of the latest late-nighters and the earliest early-risers. but it is still very still. i can hear the highway if i strain my ears.

it is this kind of quiet, when i want to call him. or at the very least write him. i want to reach out; i desire to feel loved. oh how much i just want that...to call. to hear his voice. to hear the love in his voice. why can't i have that? i know i can't, i shouldn't. oh.

i don't want to talk about my day. i'd rather pretend it didn't happen. it is frightening how much i do not want to write this book review. it is with a passion that i am avoiding it.

some days i just want to start over, i want to hit the "reset" button, to tear off the page from the legal pad and start afresh.

i want to blame him for all this: my sadness, my bingeing, my moods, my lack of motivation. i want to flaunt my happiness in his face. i want revenge, to inflict pain (emotional, not physical -- but really, which is worse?). lisa says maybe my emotions towards him are really hidden ones i have towards my parents; that is why they are so strong. you see, i am not scared to show him how i feel; for some reason it is acceptable to be upset towards jon but not towards my parents. i can demand that jon give me all the love and attention i need, but not my parents. i can cry in front of and be angry at jon, but not my parents. i don't know how much this is true. i guess it makes sense...i have no other explanation for why i got so upset sometimes with him...unidentifiably upset. it was not my fault though. and not his either. but what do i do about it now? do i cry in front of and get angry at my parents? i couldn't make jon change...can i make my parents change? i feel so alone right now. i just want to call him. no no no. i can't. that wouldn't be good. i know what i need to do: reach other to someone else. someone here, or a friend from somewhere else. or, occupy myself. read a book. put away my laundry.

he is starting to fade. voice is still there. but face, body, mannerisms -- they are going. the eyes are still there. they will be the last to go.

why do i torture myself thinking about him. i must keep occupied. i have things to do tomorrow and wednesday nights; thursdays are usually easy to find something to do...and oh wait, it is visiting day weekend, so there will be a party thursday night and pizza friday...

yes a large part of being happy is not thinking about certain things. not letting yourself go down those paths that lead to the ditch. even though the ditch can be quite comfortable. keep moving. don't get stuck in the mud. some are better at it than others...