Dear You,
I know it's been a while since I wrote to you but since you're not actually reading this I highly doubt you're upset. The past two weeks have been pretty horrible so bear with me because my life is such a mess and I'm such a mess I feel like a character in a Margaret Atwood novel.
I was late. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks! Do you know when that happened last? Of course you don't because I never told you. Two years ago. Just before my emotions disappeared. I freaked out. Seriously, I completely freaked out and there was no reason now that I look at it logically. There are some technicalities that make it extremelly hard to practically impossible for me to get pregnant but still there I was panicking. I guess it brought everything back so I'm willing to forgive myself for what I think was a massive judgment error. Still, what I can't forgive is telling him about it. Why, why do I have to open my bloody mouth and say EVERYTHING that pops in my mind??? He doesn't know what happened last time. I lied and said I didn't know how or why I couldn't feel anything anymore because the truth is way too horrible and I knew he wouldn't look at me the same way if he knew it. This is one of those cases I was telling you about. You lie to the people you love to protect them. I told Sharon the truth about what happened because I needed to tell someone the truth and if that someone wasn't my mom then it was going to be the next best thing. The way she looked at me, like she pitied me made me so angry but I also felt relieved because I understood that this is it, this is the way everyone is going to look at me and I knew I had to keep that story to myself.
It's funny how when you tell a story you try to make it as vivid as possible for your friends to understand and picture everything exactly like you did. This story was over in 5 sentences and though it was plain facts, no emotions, no descriptions, it still sounded disgusting and filthy in my head. Isabel said that it was the society, that nothing made sense anymore because I felt I had commited some crime but I'm not so sure. One day it was there, the next it wasn't and that wasn't a conscious choice. I didn't have an abortion. It was just gone and I didn't know that it was there in the first place. I come off as such an idiot in this story I'm trying to forget it myself. I hate that I have to lie about certain parts of my life but it's necessary.
There are times I wish I could buy someone else's life. I know that's horrible but that's the purpose of this blog, write all my horrible thoughts and not give a shit. So, yeah. I mean I'm buying all sorts of pointless shit, why not invest in something that can actually make me feel better? I've made great strives since September but I'm not nearly as stable as I'd like to and I fear change so fucking much. I look at the end of the course and it scares the shit out of me! I have no idea what I'm gonna do afterwards.
Anyway, it's Jack's party tonight so I want to have some fun and celebrate and try not to think about some other shit I have on my plate now. I tell myself gramma will be fine and I know it's a selfish wish because mama is in pain seeing her like this and I can only think about the last thing I said to her and I hate myself so fucking much! It's fine. Jack keeps asking if I'm ok and I wish he stopped because he looks at me and makes me feel like I'm broken and I hate it. But it's his party tonight so I'll close my eyes and think of Lefkada and the sea and how it felt the first time I stood on the beach and I listened to the waves and marked the place the water reached on the sand with my fingers. I dream of summer. I'll see you in June but it will be different.
Evey
I know it's been a while since I wrote to you but since you're not actually reading this I highly doubt you're upset. The past two weeks have been pretty horrible so bear with me because my life is such a mess and I'm such a mess I feel like a character in a Margaret Atwood novel.
I was late. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks! Do you know when that happened last? Of course you don't because I never told you. Two years ago. Just before my emotions disappeared. I freaked out. Seriously, I completely freaked out and there was no reason now that I look at it logically. There are some technicalities that make it extremelly hard to practically impossible for me to get pregnant but still there I was panicking. I guess it brought everything back so I'm willing to forgive myself for what I think was a massive judgment error. Still, what I can't forgive is telling him about it. Why, why do I have to open my bloody mouth and say EVERYTHING that pops in my mind??? He doesn't know what happened last time. I lied and said I didn't know how or why I couldn't feel anything anymore because the truth is way too horrible and I knew he wouldn't look at me the same way if he knew it. This is one of those cases I was telling you about. You lie to the people you love to protect them. I told Sharon the truth about what happened because I needed to tell someone the truth and if that someone wasn't my mom then it was going to be the next best thing. The way she looked at me, like she pitied me made me so angry but I also felt relieved because I understood that this is it, this is the way everyone is going to look at me and I knew I had to keep that story to myself.
It's funny how when you tell a story you try to make it as vivid as possible for your friends to understand and picture everything exactly like you did. This story was over in 5 sentences and though it was plain facts, no emotions, no descriptions, it still sounded disgusting and filthy in my head. Isabel said that it was the society, that nothing made sense anymore because I felt I had commited some crime but I'm not so sure. One day it was there, the next it wasn't and that wasn't a conscious choice. I didn't have an abortion. It was just gone and I didn't know that it was there in the first place. I come off as such an idiot in this story I'm trying to forget it myself. I hate that I have to lie about certain parts of my life but it's necessary.
There are times I wish I could buy someone else's life. I know that's horrible but that's the purpose of this blog, write all my horrible thoughts and not give a shit. So, yeah. I mean I'm buying all sorts of pointless shit, why not invest in something that can actually make me feel better? I've made great strives since September but I'm not nearly as stable as I'd like to and I fear change so fucking much. I look at the end of the course and it scares the shit out of me! I have no idea what I'm gonna do afterwards.
Anyway, it's Jack's party tonight so I want to have some fun and celebrate and try not to think about some other shit I have on my plate now. I tell myself gramma will be fine and I know it's a selfish wish because mama is in pain seeing her like this and I can only think about the last thing I said to her and I hate myself so fucking much! It's fine. Jack keeps asking if I'm ok and I wish he stopped because he looks at me and makes me feel like I'm broken and I hate it. But it's his party tonight so I'll close my eyes and think of Lefkada and the sea and how it felt the first time I stood on the beach and I listened to the waves and marked the place the water reached on the sand with my fingers. I dream of summer. I'll see you in June but it will be different.
Evey
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