Pebbles

P was my rock, no my Earth, my entire existence rotated around him. He was my everything. If something happened he was There. He actually Cared. What is there now? Some people care, but it's not the same. They don't care about everything like he did. They only care about little parts of me, and with different tolerances for the convenience of caring.

I hate trying to fill the void now. Spreading it all out among the pebbles in my life. Some are a little bigger, maybe like a backhoe-only movable garden stone for family and really close friends. But even then, they can roll away, they're not my existence and I'm definitely not theirs. They don't text funny stories because the second they hear a funny story they think of telling me. They don't help cook my dinner because they know it would make Me happy. ME!

I can't believe P cared about little old me, but he did. It makes me cry to think that someone so amazing could give a rip about me. Now I'm this sad and pathetic thing. Most of my friends are virtual. I even started going on random chats to add people to my instant messengers, just to feel like someone cared. To add more pebbles.

There's a guy I added, he got a little too attached, but I loved it. Didn't even like him that much, was a total settle 'good enough' thing. How fucking terrible. But I just miss P actually caring, so I guess some fake caring from a fake person who didn't even really know the real me was the best I can get now. Some shitty 'r u there?' IM waiting when I get home, or maybe I can even check it from my cell phone, as if people really know or care the rare times I'm out and about. P would have. That guy turned out to be a turd instead of a pebble anyway. Makes me sick to think of how special P was and how hurtful, mean and mediocre at best everyone else is.

The other night at home, I slipped and fell. Messed up my knee, it hurt so bad. Nobody was there and nobody cared. Nobody knew how excruciating the pain was, and nobody heard me scream the f word at the top of my lungs and sob because P wasn't in his room. He wasn't rushing out to check on me, with a waft of warm air and his sweet special smell. I loved that sleepy smell he had. I just lied on the floor shaking with the phone in my hand in case I started to pass out. I wanted to call 911 so somebody would know I died and feed my (our) little cat.

I'm too chicken to kill myself, what if I got it wrong and there is some kind of afterlife and somehow I don't get to be with P if I purposely kill myself? If there was an accident though.. and it was nice and quick... all I can say now is "oh well". How absolutely terrible it is, that life, which should be my most precious thing ever has been reduced to 'oh well'. The most precious thing I had was him.

It's all gone now because of cancer.

Fucking pity party

Right now, I hate myself. I hate who I am, who I'm becoming, and what I'm not.
I also hate my life. I LOVE what it was, hate what it is, and hate what it's not.

I feel like such a loser. I started a night class tonight, and we had to do the dreaded introductions. I hate explaining myself to people. I hate that I have no response to their questions. My name, what do I during the day, where I'm from. I can't even answer all that. What do I say? I'm an unemployed loser wasting money on a night class so I can feel human. I'm widowed and 29. Yes that is too young to be widowed. Yes that is too old to start life all over again. Yes I'm wasting my degrees and I do nothing during the day.

This isn't even what's really bugging me. Or is it? I don't know who I even am anymore. I just want P back so the shotgun blast that cancer tore through my life could be stuffed back up with love and purpose in the proper way.

You know, I haven't posted since the 9th because I got drunker than ever before that night. I haven't had any since, but it was a new low. I dumped all my thoughts out on someone and let them see me at my worst, which scares me to death.

I tried mending my wound with other things, it didn't work. I destroyed them and ripped it right open. I fucking hate all this.

Happy Anniversary

...or something.

Last year minus a week:
P snuck out of the house, blind from his cancer, with his little walker. He sat by the bus stop determined to get to the mall to buy me a wedding ring. A neighbour he met on a walk, who was a cancer survivor herself happened to pass by him. She offered him a lift to the mall and helped him pick out a ring for me. A week later (April 9) he proposed to me in our favourite restaurant.

I can't even write the story properly, I'm a mess.

I bought his favourite food, from the Royal Shawarma. We used to go in there all the time and it would be a great night. The smell killed me on the way home, it just smells like good times. When I got home there was two forks in the bag and I cried. I wish he was here to eat it with me.

There's only about 1 shot left of his favourite, Jim Beam. I think I'm going to have half now, and split the rest into whatever other days I'll be celebrating him. The mickey of rum will fill in the rest. I'm going to go rot on the couch and watch our favourite shows and just wallow in shittiness with his food. Fuck life.

9 days

It's April 9, Saturday will be 9 months.

I don't remember much of April. I seriously wasted it away on the internet watching cartoons, junk on You Tube, reading comics, chatting, totally BS-ing the time away. I think I've listened to The Ballad of the Beard for an hour of my life. Add another hour for Comb Your Beard (at Night).

I didn't look for a job, I didn't clean the house, I didn't clean out the cat's box every day. I didn't compost the banana that fell on the floor. I didn't eat 3 meals a day or even 2. I bought milk and it's currently rotting. I am too lazy to even watch LOST. I ruined my sleep again so that I'm waking in the evenings.

My accomplishments: I coloured some eggs. I ate them even after they turned rubbery. I made an internet friend. I broke my camera lens and then bought a new one. I did my laundry once and I finally cleaned up the pan in the sink that I made pizza in about a week ago. I got a haircut (my last one was 11 months ago for our wedding which didn't happen.) I returned a hoard of empties.

Fulfilling life.

Switch to the other dimension where I am married. In it P is cancer-free, we visited Australia and possibly Italy. We have full time jobs and are buying the house I'm currently renting. We play games together online and simply enjoy each other's company. We have some separate hobbies and I love watching him come home and tell me how his squash game went. We cuddle on the couch and fall asleep talking about good times from the past while planning more for the future.

I wish I could rip a hole into that dimension and climb through. In this one even I don't exist anymore. I feel like I appeared in this body a month ago and am totally faking being human.

Easter

So I had Easter with the family. P really should have been there. It's so wrong without him. My cousin had his woman there, they looked really happy together. I could tell they had the sort of inside jokes going that me and P had. I'm happy for him because he's older now and probably would have made a good dad, but things never worked out. It still made me sad though. Nobody asked how I was except my aunt. I love her for it.

I've been thinking a lot the past few days, I think I really should move. It scares the hell out of me, but really my life in this city is shattered and I don't know anybody here. I might as well move back near the few people I do know. I keep going there anyway to go hiking. Thinking about it is one thing, it took me so many months before I could even entertain the idea. Actually moving is another. What if it's a terrible idea? I have a million doubts. Sometimes his room smells like him for no reason, the new one won't. The place will probably be crappier and If I leave I can never come back. I feel like I left that life already though, even though I'm still here. I'm not even me. I have no idea how I'll feel about it in August when I'd have to move, I'm so all over the place. Hate this.

I'm still feeling this spring high. I got my hair cut today and I always feel so great after that. It was nice out too. I hope I don't make a bad decision about moving just because I'm in this mood to be out and about and running around now.

Spring

It's spring. Warm air, stuff coming to life. Something just clicked in me and I ended up talking with someone the other day on a chat site (an attractive male). I know they don't know me. I know they don't give a crap about me. I know it's too much effort to make a real friend. I know we won't be cuddling on the couch watching Dexter. I know I'll never meet them for real and they'll disappear back into the abyss of the internet and I'll feel worse. I know they're not P. I know it won't end up being anything and I'm just waiting to regret it all. Fucking spring.