Tuesday, August 28, 2012

F is for Freak

I got a C on my first biochem quiz today. It was awful. There were only eight questions and so, by missing two, that put my grade all the way down to a C. I'm freaking out. I can't start school this way. My academic advisor says that she is happy with my grade and that it was a very hard quiz and I shouldn't worry. She says students typically do better on the tests than they do on quizzes.
Despite what you may think from things written on here, Ex did have good qualities. One of his best was his ability to calm me down and help me see things from a brighter perspective. I tend to think in extremes and that is not very helpful in life. Ex was good at pointing out the positive parts. He was good at getting me to stop freaking out.
I can't believe I miss Ex. Am I trying to self-sabotage? I want to call him. Ridiculous. No good can come of it. He was so good at being nice when he wanted to be, though. I can't believe this. I've got to stop freaking out.

Saturday, August 18, 2012

E is for Eloquent

Not that Ex was. Not at all. However, the letter that he wrote to me was quite eloquent. I'm talking about the letter he wrote when we were dating and I found out he had gone on a date with someone else. I'm referring to the letter Ex wrote after I dumped him. I'm talking about the letter in which he poured out his heart and told me how he had known I was The One the moment we met.
His letter convinced me that he loved me and that he had just been afraid. We had had a fight and he thought I was going to leave him. Which I should have, but hindsight is 20/20, you know. Obviously, the letter affirmed his love for me and so I took Ex back and the rest is history.

I found the letter again as I was packing my things to leave Ex. I reread it and, again, found it eloquent and convincing. It helped me feel better about having been so deceived by him. Anyone, I thought, would have been swayed by such a heart-felt missive.
Then I found the letter again as I was at my little cabin on vacation. I read it for the last time. It was stupid. Obviously written in desperation, not love. Fear, not caring. Self-preservation, not giving. I read the first few paragraphs and then threw the stupid thing into the fire. I'm glad it is gone from the universe. Eloquent crap like that simply shouldn't exist.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

D is for Drunk

Which I am. Not drunk enough, though. I want to call him. SO badly I can taste it. I had to retype that sentence about five times to get it right. If it isn't right, please forgive me - I'm under the influence of alcohol. I like Pucker Vodka. Good stuff. It's hard to type, though. May wear out my back space key. May delete this tomorrow. Who knows?
Ex has been on my mind big time lately. I want to call him. Why? Because I'm stupid, that's why. No good can come of it, that is for sure. I'm dying here, though. I was playing my guitar, trying (took me four tries to type "trying") to distract myself like a good little girl but my best friend, VODKA, kept calling my name. And now Ex is calling my name.
Why do I want to talk to him? NO GOOD CAN COME OF IT. Yes, I am yelling. But not at you. I am trying to get through to my pathetic, drunk self. Is it working? Not really. But I do feel a bit better.

To sum up: Me = drunk
Me = want to call him
Me= know that is a bad idea, especially because I am drunk
me = screwed            

Sunday, August 5, 2012

C is for Cabin

Tonight is the night. I rented a small cabin at an RV resort about an hour from my apartment. It is my first night here. I've never been on vacation by myself before. Sure, I've visited relatives or traveled for business, but this is different. Just me and my two dogs, hanging out at the resort. I came to write, read, and relax before school starts again.
Tonight I am going to make a campfire. Tonight I am going to cook hot dogs for myself and my dogs. Tonight I am going to burn my Burn Box.

I am a very sentimental person. I have the ticket stubs from every single movie Ex and I ever went to see. I have programs from roller derbys, ticket stubs from baseball games, ski lift tickets, and every card he ever gave me. Calendars. Wedding cards. Paperwork from the reception hall. Pamphlets from our honeymoon. I have so much garbage that means so much to me.
Tonight I am going to burn my sentimental garbage. Tonight I leave it all behind in the fire pit. Tonight painful memories will turn to ashes. Goodbye, sentimental garbage, and good riddance to you.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

B is for Birthday

I came home that first birthday as his wife to find Ex, Zeke, and the dog all wearing party hats. Ex sang to me while I blew out the candles on the ice cream cake he had bought and had them write my name on. Never mind that I hate ice cream cake - I was thrilled. What a lovely thing for him to do!
He gave me a great present of a multi-tool for my bike. Never mind that he used the tool and lost it just a few weeks later.

On my second birthday as Ex's wife, there was no cake, no song, no present, no celebration. He was working out of town at the time and mad that he had been "forced" to come home that weekend, even though my birthday was on Tuesday that year. Never mind that I hadn't asked him to come home.
When I moved out, I was sorting through our things and found a birthday card he had bought for me. Never mind that he never gave me the card. They say it's the thought that counts. Right.
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