Aloha: Hello & Good-Bye

Sometimes you just gotta say good-bye. I guess it's time I said it. It's been 68 days (yeah, I've counted -- what happened to me?! I'm such a girl, yuck...). I'm tired of mopping. Life is hard enough without added heart-break. Wish I knew how to start. I saw the new profile picture and as terrible as it is, I think it's so cute. That's scary. My sister says I have the "battered woman syndrome" because I defend and love someone who hurt me so much. But, I can't blame him. He didn't do it on purpose. I can't deny his selfishness though, nor his lack of respect for me. She says I'm a weird girl, thinking and saying how adorable that picture is. A normal girl would hate on it, call it what it is -- ugly. She says she's going save it to her computer and send it to me as a postcard or as a card on holidays when I'm feeling blue because of him. I already missed Christmas. And Easter. I'm not planning on missing anymore holidays.

For Easter I wasn't just heart-broken though, I was also sick. I think he makes me sick. Literally. The first time my poor little heart broke I ended up having pneumonia - that was October, a few days before Halloween. The second time, when it just broke beyond repair, was April 3, the night before Easter. Granted I was already feeling a little under the weather, but I was happy, excited and hopeful to see him. So much for that. I canceled my Easter plans. Instead, I stayed home coughing, weeping, feverish and sleeping. It was raining outside. It rained all day. I remember wondering if the Heavens were competing with my eyes for the downpour. I went to work the next day, refusing to stay home for something so trivial. But, I must have been a sight because I was charmingly told "you look sick" and "you should go home". I felt so ashamed, hoping my tears had gone unnoticed (except for the people I cried in front of, oh gosh...).

Now I'm just frustrated for caring, for mopping, for hoping and for blaming myself for being naive. My sister says I shouldn't feel bad, or ashamed or blame myself. She says I trusted him and gave my heart in good faith, and I can't regret it. She makes sense. I know she's right, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. It also doesn't make it any easier to accept the strong feelings I have for someone to whom I'm insignificant to. I guess that's life though. Right now all I want is a magic antidote that erases memories and heals hearts. Or Paul Walker. I do wonder if I'll ever share myself with anyone again. I don't want to. I can't eve imagine loving anyone else. Sometimes, when I think about that, that song comes into my head - "if I can't have you, I don't want nobody baby...can't let go and it doesn't matter how I try. I gave it all so easily to you my love to dreams that never will come true..." and I laugh. A lot. I must be crazy. Skydiving, surfing without knowing how to swim and trying to ride a motorcycle even when I shut my eyes at sharp turns, I can deal with. Those are risks that are exciting and fun. Physical pain goes away. Emotions though, yikes. I would have thought a month was more than enough time. Time is way up. Maybe I need an exorcism. Minus the green vomit. I want to be like I was before - happy. I want to feel the excitement I used to feel over, well, everything - cheese, a trip, a song. "I love lamp." I need a sabbatical. Machu Pichu, don't go anywhere - I'm coming to hike you and sleep in your pyramids. I plan to watch the sun set from your altitude and see it rise in full glory, the miracle of a new day marking a new beginning in my heart. I want to say good-bye. I really do. Well, my head does. My heart doesn't (it's not that bright). Sigh. Dusho, Dusho...tsk, tsk...