4:31 a.m. | 2004-08-19
And It All Came Down To That Last Straw
We spoke this morning. I got up, saw him on, and prayed as I sent him a little message that he wasn't actually there.
It was 4 am, of course he was there. I miss him dearly, and he told me he loves me and wants to see me soon. Ok, I'm alright with that, it's not a big deal right?
We'll hug, and we'll talk, and I'll laugh, and we'll figure something to do afterwards. And I'll rush home before we go out and clean this place up as fast and as best as I can, folding everything, putting everything in its place, because lord knows I have to impress him.
I'll shave my legs, and put on a skirt--just for him. And I'll make my best soft and inviting, just for him. And I'll make sure every inch of my body is covered in lotion, and that I'm wearing a low cut tank top that shows far too much cleavage. And I'll do my hair in the kinda punky way he likes, where he can easily take out the hair tie and run his hands through it.
But I can't fall. Remember how I said I can't? Remember how I told you that I wouldn't let him do this to me, and how I realized that I wanted to be a seperate part of his life, not for this?
How is it that I can be so strong when I don't see him or talk to him, but even a few words from him make me crumble? Honestly.
Someone, please, tell me.
