I have hidden this private journal for so many years, only to pull it out when i'm about to explode with an inability to pour out my inner private thoughts for so long. It's the equivalent to crying for me, so much to exhale, yet so hard to do. Facebook is a voyeurs paradise, with family, loved ones and friends reading anything and everything you post. Here, I have my coveted privacy, the privacy i seek and need...
So with that said, we're at the house this weekend... So nice, 6 acres of no one but wild animals and prairie dogs at the end of the dirt road... I love it! Yet, here I set, leasha sleeping, beana sleeping... Who do I look up?
Yes... Her, with her Facebook profile wide open, almost makes me think she did it so I could see. Does she even remember me? 12 years ago, my pathetic brain that wont let go or is it my soul that wont let go?
I had a long thought to myself, I told myself that it's over, I will never have or see or have anything else to do with her. No matter how much I wish, plead or hope, it's gone. Yes, the pain has long since gone, yet I keep turning back, hoping to see her or a glimpse of what it was.
Funny, I only have pieces and bits of 1999, July 4th the 11 days of esctacy I had after. Maybe it's July that's coming, string up my brain.
Fuck you, I hate you! I hate that I can't get rid of you, a stain in some tiny piece of my brain that will not scrub off. I look and covet that stain, as if it was a holy artifact, some piece of toast that jesus's face was burn on. ARGH!
2 AM, another fine looking girl who's legs I adore from afar.... I guess I should wrap this pity party of a post up.
To the point, yes I looked you up on FB! I wished those lips were mine again, those eyes still haunt me, as beautiful as they are still.
I'm sure this is the booze talking... But I can't let you go... Yet.