So here's the problem (or a problem, one of many really, since I'm being honest)
I feel stupid. I feel ridiculous.
I feel incredibly young and foolish and gullible, and at the same time, far too old to be handling all of this so badly.
I feel stupid.
Every time I slip up and think of something that makes me think of you (which by the way, is just about anything), every morning that I wake up from dreams of you (about two - three times per week, in case anyone was wondering), I feel stupid.
I feel humiliated.
When I breathe in, and my chest hurts, when I am close to tears, I feel ashamed.
I should be okay by now. I should be better. I should have reduced you to a her, she, or they.
Or a "nobody, just this girl I knew once, for a while, sort of."
But anyway, life goes on. And I'm trying to go with it.
I have a job interview in the morning- for a decent place.
I'm going to see Amanda Palmer on Friday, with my best Fran-friend, and hear Neil Gaiman speak on Saturday.
There's an engagement party the week after that, and I think I'm meant to make a toast maybe.
I don't know how to make toasts.
I'm trying to co-operate with Life, and not resist too much.
Or sleep too much.
Or spend too much time in the bath, staring at my knees.
I think it would be very hard to drown in the bath. I tried it once, not properly, just to see.
I sunk under, filled my nose with water, and came up spluttering.
Not how I thought it would be.
I thought it might be peaceful, maybe.
I played music yesterday, for the first time in two years.
I played Brahms, and Bach, and Beethoven, and Gluck, and Vivaldi.
Gluck is my favourite, even though he has the least beautiful name.