6:22 a.m. | 2007-01-23
I Wish I Had a River
I wonder what would happen if I washed my face in saline every night.
Because the morning after I've cried? My skin is softer than ever.
Granted my eyes are a little puffy, my skin is softer than most baby butts. It's bad enough this morning that I can't tell if I'm hungry or I want to throw up. I've never wanted to crawl back into bed again (like admitting defeat) and cry all day long but it's very tempting today.
I barely slept last night. I tossed and turned and saw every hour on my alarm clock as I sighed and hoped that all of the things that had come out of my mouth came out as biting and seething as I thought they did. I hope that he feels bad and sees why I was upset.
I'm not dumb. I know he doesn't.
I could put it in plain english: "you treat girls like crap" and he still wouldn't get it. Because he's an emotional game of checkers and I just decided to pull all my pieces off the board.
The only reason I'm upset is at myself. Because I knew the situation I was in and worse -- I knew what he was doing to other girls and I knew what I was doing to "fix" him and to make him see what he was doing just wasn't enough. I knew I was failing. But I was selfish and I wanted him for myself. I was selfish and thought I could fix him.
But now he wants to be a dad. He wants to get into this relationship and be a father to this kid. Admirable, yes. Until he runs away. Until things with mom don't work out. Until his little tiny heart is so broken because he doesn't understand why two daddy's have left him.
And on that day when things break down and he's broken a mother and a son's heart?
I will not be there to console him.