I am making macaroni and cheese and drinking red wine and trying not to cry. The macaroni and cheese is more likely to be a successful venture. I wish I were watching a 70s crime movie with the Legend. I wish I were sharing my fattening carbs with him. I wish he loved me enough to be here. I wish I wish I wish I wish. Most of all I wish I still had the faith to believe my wishes came true. I cried all last night—cold sad loveless endless November Venus Retrograde nights have that effect on a girl—and when I woke I still couldn’t stop. From Boston Rachel said: All you have to do in the next hour is wash your face and get a coffee. The fresh air and sun on your face will make you feel better—not a lot, but a little. As always, my dear friend was right. I wish that hadn’t been the highlight of this sadsack of a day.
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The Church of Sunday Night in November
your departure seems like it has to be final this time and i can’t stop crying. i feel like the ground has opened up below me, that everything is going to stay dark and cold, and what is the point of such love and warmth—the feeling i had hoped for (prayed for) for such a long time–only to have it go away again. the loneliness is a lot worse now, worse than it was before, because i thought we were each other’s reward for all our sadness, all the struggle before we found each other. you’re the last person i should be saying it to, but it’s your embrace i want (all that would make me feel better) and i’m an inconsolable small person right now. an inconsolable small person with a new manicure because I thought I would make love to you with these new short purple nails. i press send here but it’s always to you that the lost love is heedlessly, helplessly traveling. the pain, jesus, the pain is terrible. will this venus retrograde never end.
My Venus Retrograde Revelation
You hit a point where a huge gap widens between you and your friends because they don’t understand why you keep going back.
How do you say what you know.
That there’s an even bigger gap beneath your feet that keeps widening when you try to step away.
That the hope that he’ll come correct is all that separates you from the little girl whose parents could abuse her physically sexually emotionally and then act like nothing had happened.
Because if you can’t rewrite the story then you’re still that little girl.
Because if your love means so little that he won’t change his ways when they’re hurting you, then you don’t matter at all.
“It’s not just an ego blow for you,” my therapist says slowly. “You experience it as a full erasure of self.” Continue Reading →