it's just like him, to wander off in the evergreen park. slowly searching.

today has also been hard, but after some sleep, I actually feel a lot better. my inside of my head feels clean, and I can see straight again. maybe it was for the better to just end it, because the situation has really hurt me and made me go through a lot of shit. so maybe it was for the best. I will never find someone like him again, and if he died, I would be so devastated, because really, he means so much to me. but I now think it's better we're not together. but I'll admit, if he wanted me back, I would do it in a heartbeat.

but for now, all I can do is to mourn over my loss of him and try to get on with my life. apparently, it just wasn't meant for the two of us to be together. maybe in the future, but I don't know. I want to.. it's more like.. when will he get better? and will he find someone else to make him happy?

but really, I'm okay. if that's what's best for him, why shouldn't I support him? after all, he means so much to me.

I'm okay.


Well let's see. After you decide that I'm depressed or whatever, you'll put me on meds right? I'll go back to work on my new anti-depressants. Have dinner with my parents, persuade them that I'm back to being the normal one who never gives them any trouble. Then one day, some guy will ask me to marry him. I'm mean it's enough, it will make my parents very happy. In the first year we will make love all the time, and then in the second and third, less and less. But just as were getting sick of each other, I'll get pregnant. Taking care of kids, holding up a job, paying mortgages, it'll keep us on moving keel for awhile. And then about ten years into it, he'll have an affair because I'm too busy and to tired and I'll find out. I'll threaten to kill him, his mistress, myself. We'll get past it and in a few years he'll have another one, but this time I'm just going to pretend I don't know 'cause somehow keeping up a fuss just doesn't seem worth the trouble this time. And I'll live out the rest of my days, sometimes wishing my kids could have a life that I never had. Other times secretly pleased they're turning into repeats of me. I'm fine, really.