I find it challenging to keep a diary, but I have owned a few. Sometimes, I write things down on scraps of paper that find their way to the tip. Here are some excerpts spanning from 2015-2021.
He’s still not replied. I also dropped ‘special friend’ a message. It’s his day off tomorrow, so I may get a quick reply.
Why did I dream of him last night? I don’t know what this is. Did he like me? He took an interest in me. He took notice of the outfits I wore.
Sometimes… all the time, I feel crazy. Holding on. Forever holding on.
2017 (Date Unknown)
How To Suffer Unrequited Love:
- Scream bloody murder.
- Cry from the pit of your stomach.
- Go downstairs, grab the knife, and trace the skin covering your heart.
- Throw glasses so they shatter.
- Bite your skin.
- Sream again.
- Wake up, rinse, and repeat.
There is nothing poetic about divorce. Everything is concrete. Hard concrete. Dirty, cracked, and distorted. I just wish I could fix it all.
They don’t get it. They don’t understand. I know everyone says this, but, for me, it is true. Ever since I was younger, I have had this obsession with older men. X, the current one, he is difficult. We laugh with each other. I bake him a cake. We graze fingertips. He’s a natural flirt anyway. Could he? I don’t know. I really don’t.
Yesterday, Amazon delivered a gift from Stewart. He bought me ten books and a Ted Baker watch. I don’t ask him to buy me anything. Now we’ve said we love each other. I love him very much indeed.
He’s dead. I knew it was too good to be true.