Tuesday Before Christmas

Here I am, post-move, doing ok (except I haven’t had a real cup of coffee in the morning for the last two days).

It went all right. I don’t enjoy moving, so it’s never going to be a breeze, but still- I’m just glad I had two friends that were willing to help someone move, and at Christmastime, too. There’s still some kitchen stuff (including the coffee maker and associated accoutrements), some china, groceries, and some Miscellany to pack up and bring to my place, but I have until the New Year to get everything out. Tonight I am retrieving the Christmas lights and decor- my very own Christmas tree is up in my new place and I desperately want to put lights and ornaments on it- it’s so late!

I haven’t had time to unpack much yet, but unpacking is the only part of moving that I don’t mind. I’m looking forward to figuring out where I want all my crazy stuff to go, and how I want everything to look.

I find myself missing the cats, who are still at the old place. Three of them will be coming to my place soon, and I hope Bossy and Randall get back in the habit of sleeping on my bed with me at night the way they did before the move. Besides, my mattress is temporarily on the floor, so no jumping required until my new bed + mattress comes in. Every night for the last month they would arrive at bedtime and curl up next to me, furry and warm and soothing.

And always, always, always, I am missing him. I still love him, unfortunately. But he doesn’t ever want to see me again, which makes missing him feel worse. My love for him is in perpetual motion, out of my control (it was always out of my control), running on and on and on ahead of me, into the horizon line. I have to live with it. It hurts so much, still. I wish I could stop keeping up with him, and I’ve tried, but it’s no use. It’s all I have left of him. Sometimes it feels like he says something to me, just for me, but then I remember his merciless eyes and all those denials. Still, a tiny candle flame of hope and intuition stays alight in my chest. Yea, for truly he is The Emperor of Mixed Messages.

That first night that I slept in 1327 Old Coach Rd, I remember lying on my back, exhausted and alone, eyes closing…and wishing he was lying there next to me.

The last time I saw his face, he insisted he loved me, but how can I believe that’s true when he treated me that way, told me to get out of his life, and won’t say a word to me? He never cared enough about me to tell me the truth, or to let me in. He wanted me, he was attracted to me, but.. I don’t know.

I do know that I’m so far gone that if I did get the chance to see him again, I would be there in a heartbeat. The few people I’ve told about him would be infuriated to know that, but I haven’t talked to anyone about him in a long time. At least not since they all pleaded with me to forget about him.

Which is impossible. Sorry.

I have no idea if he reads this. I have no idea if I’ll ever be with him or see him again. But fuck. I want to. So bad.

Which sucks.

I never did get to do much fun Christmas-y stuff like I wanted, there was just too much to do. But Christmas Eve I’m invited to my dear friend Carole’s house, which will be sweet and spirited.

I hope he’s doing okay. Is he lonely, too?

I wish he had let me love him.

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