I haven’t talked to Daniel in over a week. “Ghosted me” was what Valentine said he’d done. Even though she said not to text him I couldn’t help myself. I needed more answers. My iPhone says the messages were delivered but still, nothing back from him. Of course, if he did respond I’d probably just rant and he probably knows that. So maybe it makes sense he doesn’t respond. But maybe if I could rant for a little bit and then he’d explain and I’d somehow feel better.
I feel like I may actually die. I cry but not when anyone can see me. I’m too embarrassed. I hate him while I ache for his touch. How can it be all these feelings in about a five-second span? Now I better understand all those songs about being wronged and worse, the ones about missing someone. I bounce between Florence and the Machine “What Kind of Man” and Adele “I Miss You” and then back to Sade “Skin”.
Honestly, I just wish I could not have any feelings right now. Numb would be best. I’ve considered going downstairs and taking a bottle of vodka upstairs with me but then, I’m not sure it would really help. Drinking in my room reeks of desperation and self-pity. Well, if I’m not self-pitying what am I doing? I guess I do feel sorry for myself but not enough to wind up puking in my toilet by myself. Ick. When I floated the idea to Valentine, if maybe she’d join me, all she did was to raise her eyebrow and shake her head. As usual, she was right.
There’s a feeling that’s come up for me. One that’s not too familiar and I’m unsure how to manage it. I think it will be the most difficult to dispel because there is a grain of truth behind every question I ask myself. It’s shame. How could I have been so stupid to think this would work out for me? My father warned me, Valentine voiced her words of caution (even though there were also words of excitement), and most of all surely I knew better. I did know better. Of course, I did. And I went ahead and fell in love with him anyway. I really wasn’t counting on that part.
Mrs. Honore pulled me aside the other day and gave me a hug. She didn’t need to say anything else but she did. “Patience, don’t worry, with every day that passes it will get better. You’ll realize that YOUR life is bigger than all this and you’ll find a way to move forward. Thoughts of him will recede into the background. Going up to UPenn will help. Meeting new people, new boys, will help.” She gave me a knowing smile, one a mother would give a daughter and I was grateful and also felt the familiar pull of sadness as I wondered what advice my mother would give if she were alive.
Overall, her advice seems to be accurate. Every morning there’s a small bump down in pain. Swimming helps (I’m back at the rec center at Tulane) and yoga too. Yesterday I was over at Valentine’s and we were playing with her dogs. They are huge, lumbering beasts that drool and love on me and she and I started laughing at how they play catch while only walking to the object. Maybe they’re kind of dumb too. In that moment, I felt more joy than pain and it was good. Moving on…