I just remembered something puzzeling. The morning after I hosted Bobs "not so going away party" is when we had the half talk with "I've already broken up with you in my head" that started two weeks of solid silence before he broke us up.

The thing I'm wondering about is if -and if so; why - where we in separate beds that night?

I know we were in his bedroom in bed cuddling and talking when we broached the subject of what we would do now that we had more time than we had thought just two days prior when he said that line to me. I definitely ran from the room to vomit and swiftly called Kory to save me while throwing my things together in the yellow upstairs bedroom where we most most most often slept. I feel like I crawled in the downstairs bed in the morning, though, and why the fuck would that have been the case??? How the he'll was I so fucking blind? What??!

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Another stupid unfortunate. With this amazing new phone I'm finally creating a music library. So I got Vuze and went a little crazy with full discographies from Broken Social Scene, rusko, Radiohead etc but today while working I happened to choose a random Radiohead album to start and it was the one Bob and I had our first coupley evening for our 6 months / valentines day ( and were discovered in bed by the parents Hahahahaha) We played KidA on repeat and it was so sensual and amorous. Sad.

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Worse idea; for some reason I had forgotten that we started dating fresh out of high school so my first year of cegep I used to bus from Abbott to Woodland and Lakeshore then walk to his house and crawl into bed with him in the fall mornings. I just remembered that and thought wow, that's quite a treck to have made so many times ...quite a silly walk to regularly make for young love. So I google mapped it as it never occurred to me then that u was walking for 40 minutes each time to crawl into his dark sleepy love arms.

3 kilometers. 40 minutes and 3 full kilometers every time? Hah! Was I ever smitten to never even wonder for a second how long it was.

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I just let myself have a super emotionally unhealthy, full 5 minute conversation with my face in my camera pretending I was iPhone "face time" calling Holland.

Have you ever seen what your deluded face looks like saying I love you in two languages? I love you looks alien on my lips.

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This black hole that I'm falling into, this tub of molasses that intermittently claims my limbs and my will, it's alien and terrifying. When you find yourself thinking "oh, this feels pretty bad. I've never thought these self loathing thought before", is it time to really worry?

I've never been super happy with myself but have always been pleased that I have fine self esteem and aren't worried about my naked body during sex or can work full time without knowing where I'm going but all of a sudden I can't stand it. Nor can I stand my weakness to fucking move and do anything about any of it.
And. And. And jager straight from the bottle with egg on toast is NOT THE WAY TO HAVE SUPPER.

This molasses is the enemy. It's a lethal enemy. Sneezes smell like honey.

War strategies:
ASL courses - get on the road to learning so as to move towards being a translator facilitator? First concrete plan I've had since I was 11. Boorah.

I've stopped smoking and kept biking. Good.

Back active on OkCupid? I don't know why not, I want options but they all fall flat but I need companionship an embarrassing much.

Fuck you, sweet heavy tar.

Ps. I miss men.

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Hurts my heart

I don't know how to be friends anymore with someone who doesn't like me.
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