My ex is probably out having drinks with some woman he met. The one who looks like me. I am actually fairly certain of this. And it's driving me crazy. Why am I the only one who has to mourn and feel guilty and be alone?
I am feeling abandoned again even though I vowed to make peace with him. So much for being friends. Sometimes, I get this idea that I should get this blog address to him, anonymously. He asked me how I was doing via email and I regaled him with stories of the last few months. Simple things and silly things, some fun and some not. Not a word about how I cry myself to sleep some nights.
I don't even know if it's him that I miss or if this is about the abortion. Both, I suppose. I've admitted as much before.
Today I went to the bookstore where I have started volunteering. It's a good place for me to be -- friendly but aloof. Friends sometimes make me feel bad. It's easier to be with strangers because you can pretend to be your best self even though you've got a little bug in your heart.
Blogging is not fun. But I keep doing it anyway. I am at the point now where I don't feel entitled to blabber to my friends, as if enough time has gone by and I should be well on way to being fine. That's not untrue, exactly. I am so fine some days that I can almost believe everything is better. But then there are these nights.
