Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Monday, June 7, 2010


Soundtrack: All the Pretty Faces by The Killers
It's late. I trained hard. I cannot sleep.

She messaged me earlier. Just thinking about her choked me up. If I stop to think of her....I get choked up. Doesn't matter the time of day or night.

In the quiet of the night, my chest grows heavy and I waiver. I tell myself that I can make it work for her, for us.
My resolve grows weak, infirm. I miss her. I miss her falling asleep before I did. I miss reading while she slept and softly stirred every so often. I miss a great many, quiet, priceless, precious things.

I don't know how everything fell apart. But it did. My flaws as a man chiefly to blame.
I have a wedding to attend soon. She was to be my date. Another wedding we would have attended together.
It's tough enough facing the stark reality of her absence.

I don't know there's anywhere to go from here. I'm left wordless and exhausted by my nature and the broken dreams left in its wake.
There is a place beyond infatuation, beyond lust, beyond love, beyond devotion, beyond everything.....I simply feel inextricably bound to her.
-With Greatest Affection
Woke up. Drove home.

Got some coffee.
Thought about her.
Wedding coming up. Seems fitting for her to be my date...but I don't think it will happen.
Being around her is just too painful. Being around her at a wedding would be far too much.
I know that I have to stay away from her. For her good. I don't want to hurt her again, and I just don't know that I can stop myself from running around on her at some point.

"Can you separate all the darkness from my eyes.....Can you separate me from the sin, is it not too late to try and start again...."
-sometimes it is. sometimes it is too late.

Good thing my fight's coming up. One of the few things that gives me reprieve from myself. The daily exhaustion and focus necessary to get ready. This will be my shortest training camp to date. I don't know how I fucked things up so bad. It's like, fighting is the only thing that lets me go, lets me lose myself. But feeding that impulse, that operating on instinct is part of the problem. That very same drive is what makes it so hard for me to be normal....I miss laying in bed with her head on my chest, reading a book.

I drag myself to my feet. Weary from living the past few days. From operating on impulse. I want peace and quiet. I want reprieve. I know it will be fleeting whenever I find it next. Tonight, after the gym, I'll lay beaten and submitted on the mat...the first of MANY such days in the coming month. The fight is just a reward. I need the gym. It is in my blood, it is part of my fiber now. One in a long line of all or nothing men leased upon the world. Impetuous, straining against convention, too strange to live, yet too rare to die (Thompson).

It's like the crazier I become, the more girls flock to me.
I wish it were different. I wish I were different. Fucking curse.

Friday, June 4, 2010

Nothing to see here: Volume 2

I could tell you about what's happened since she and I broke up but it doesn't matter. I miss her. I did the right thing and as usual, it sucks & it hurts. A bunch of hoez have hollered at me. I've been emotionally distant and vacuous.

I remember ages ago, I drove an ex home b/c she was too drunk to drive. The only girl before my ex that I miss in a similar fashion....a girl whom I regarded as a close/best friend & a lover. At any rate, I drove her home, and she asked me to stay, asked me to sleep with her and hold her.....I walked out, knowing in my brain I was doing the right thing yet feeling like shit. This was only a couple months after I'd met my most recent ex.

This is like that.

Contrary to popular fiction, I sometimes do the right thing. I don't make a habit of it b/c it hurts almost as much as doing the wrong thing for which I seem to have a much higher propensity/inclination.

I'm doing okay compared to times past when she and I were apart. I haven't slid into the day after day bender. I've got a fight booked in a month which is good reason to maintain functional/semi sobriety, yet in the past I didn't even manage that. My first fight, I worked a double and drank the night before. My 2nd fight, I drank the weekend before. Seriously. Perhaps, slowly but surely, I am becoming slightly more mature...that or I'm just getting tired.

I miss her. More than I can even consciously admit. I miss what we shared and the feeling of her body pressed against mine, lying in her bed, running my fingers through her hair. I miss the precious weight of her body on my chest and her natural smell, no perfume, nothing, just the smell of her skin and body.

God, I fucked up. This is one of those that will mar my soul.

So, instead of blogging endlessly about how much I miss her.....there's nothing to see here. I'll post again when I have something else to say/feel/blog about.
-With Greatest Affection