I've been running through a string of cliches in my attempt to move on.
When Dustin left, I went to Hole in the Wall every day, got drunk by 6, and grieved privately.
The night Andrew called, I was so stunned, I didn't even know what to do. Asking myself, am I supposed to cry now or what? I make tea and watch two romantically devastating films. And send an ill-advised e-mail to him after an hour or so of sleep. Since then I have generally subsisted on cigarettes, caffeinated beverages, and toast. Skipping class, embarking on lonely adventures. Bought drawing supplies (God I've missed charcoal), but couldn't focus for shit. Bought film, developed film-- and some of it was shot this summer when I visited him in DC. Went drinking with my roommates, saw a show with some people in my program. Social events are enjoyable, but temporary.
What is so generally shitty is that he has all his good friends in Austin, and it's life as normal for him. And here I am, in Chicago (and all of you are elsewhere), wondering what the fuck I'm doing, if this degree is worth it, and, pathetically, if staying meant we'd still be together. So many things don't make sense to me about what happened, and my questions have gone unanswered. But I can't make him respond, and I can't make him want to be with me. It'd be, I feel, stupid to try. And I feel so strange even thinking about calling him or texting him. Like I'm trespassing, somehow.
I've been having the most surreal, near terrifying dreams since that conversation, to the point where I dread sleep. And when I wake up, I have to remember and remind myself that we're not together anymore. It's the pinnacle of masochism.
If he told me he stopped loving me, that would be better than silence.
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vicky darling, it will be ok. call me and we will talk about andrew or everything but andrew. i can blab about my life because i'm good at that. we can agree about how amazing that story i just sent you from ajna is. we can look up buses or trains or planes between chicago and new york to plan a get together. maybe meet somewhere unknown inbetween. in the moment, yes, it sucks. and when you're alone with yourself it's like a fucking tootsiepop, licking, sucking, sucking, crush, break, shatter... but you'll be really good, soon. it will happen.
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