Dark DaysWhat can I say that I haven't said already? I miss him. It's not fair. It sucks. It gets less actively awful, but not really any better. I miss him, and I miss the life we were supposed to have together. I'm tired of being alone in the universe. I'm tired of having to find reasons NOT to wallow in despair.
I miss you, babe. I hope you know that. I hope you know that whatever else I someday find, it will never, ever, take your place--or fill the part of me that was completed by you. In so many ways, you were the part of me I liked best. I miss the laughter, and the hopes, and the memories we didn't get to make. I miss celebrating our daughter with you, and laughing at the same exact thing you find funny. I want to tell you about the funny line I just read on Salon about Jack Black, and hear you say, "He rocks. So HARD," and laugh, not because it's funny, but because the joke is ours and we are together to share it. I want you to see your daughter dance in her first (and probably not last) "Nutcracker." And to pick out a Christmas tree together, and laugh bitterly about how your nutty family has canceled Thanksgiving again, and not really mind because the three of us are all the family we really need.
I may not hurt as badly, but I miss you not one iota less than I did 729 days ago. I still feel bereft, blunted, and impaired.
Now I am going home to get powerfully drunk and maybe watch the documentary about the Dixie Chicks before I humiliate myself by crying on campus...AGAIN. I keep thinking I will just quit this stupid blog, since I never have anything new to say, or the energy to find new ways to say it.