old (2007), Uncategorized


For the most part, I’m a happy person. I possess a great deal of tenacity, and for a number of reasons I’m usually able to keep things under control. But then there are times when, well, I just can’t. And I fall apart, and it most always happens after midnight, where all my friends are busy — sleeping, having fun, going out, getting laid. No one wants a phone call from a weepy friend at 12:07am, and even fewer people want to receive text messages that are the linguistic equivalent of “Waaa! I can’t stop crying!”

And so it goes. I don’t send the text messages, and I don’t call anyone for help. I stupidly reach out to people whom I should just leave alone, and then feel bad for doing so. I refuse to contact the people who can help, because I’m afraid I’ve bothered them too much already. Any fantasies I have that my phone will ring and someone will be on the other end just to say, “it will be all right” remain just that: stupid ill-formed fantasies. I’ll take a hot bath in a futile attempt to cleanse myself of negativity, grief, regret, remorse, and frustration. It probably will do little good, and I’ll cry myself to sleep for the umpteenth night in a row.

I guess this is the grieving. Again. And, once more, its endlessness is something I cannot even begin to comprehend.