Rescue me.
This is the first time I have ever gone through something like this, but I suspect it never gets any easier, does it ladies.
Last night Rachel's (my roommate) secret lover, Sam, came over and, together, formed a tag-team to replace my emotion with logic, my ache with laughter, and my loneliness with comfort. Sam even held my hand and forced me to snuggle with him. Yet all I could think of was, It just isn't Jason.
So this morning I delayed getting up for several hours. When I finally did get up, I read your emails, and took a shower, all the while thinking of how to respond to you all. How can I tell you, my bosom friends, what I am going through? How can I turn my tears into words?
By the time I got out of the shower, I was so dizzy with emotion that I laid back on my bed, my wet hair dripping onto my pillow, and my bathrobe splayed underneath me. I so badly wanted to forget it all, to jump into my car and drive myself straight into Jason's arms. Afraid of my own thoughts and what I might do, I slept...and slept until Rachel knocked on my door at 6:15 p.m.
She sat on my bed, cocked her head to the side, evaluating my half-dried hair and my wrinkled bathrobe. I suppose she saw a little bit of herself in that moment, because she said, "We're going out. I don't care where. You better put on some clothes because I'll be back to check on you. Now hurry."
So in a semi-symbolic gesture, I unwrapped a shirt that I'd never worn from its tissue paper, pulled on my skinny jeans, and headed out with Rachel.
We walked the streets of uptown Cincinnati, drifting among outrageous price tags and sipping smoothies. I even tried on a very expensive, very lovely dress, and everyone ooohed and ahhed. I curtsied, felt oh-so-very princessy, and for one fleeting moment, forgot about Jason.
In due girly fashion, we each bought a slice of very rich chocolate mouse cake, and came home to watch 24. (Well, she is watching 24, anyway.)
And now I'm thinking about him again, crying a little, and trying to remain strong.
To my lovelies who emailed me, I will write you very, very soon. *hugs*
Last night Rachel's (my roommate) secret lover, Sam, came over and, together, formed a tag-team to replace my emotion with logic, my ache with laughter, and my loneliness with comfort. Sam even held my hand and forced me to snuggle with him. Yet all I could think of was, It just isn't Jason.
So this morning I delayed getting up for several hours. When I finally did get up, I read your emails, and took a shower, all the while thinking of how to respond to you all. How can I tell you, my bosom friends, what I am going through? How can I turn my tears into words?
By the time I got out of the shower, I was so dizzy with emotion that I laid back on my bed, my wet hair dripping onto my pillow, and my bathrobe splayed underneath me. I so badly wanted to forget it all, to jump into my car and drive myself straight into Jason's arms. Afraid of my own thoughts and what I might do, I slept...and slept until Rachel knocked on my door at 6:15 p.m.
She sat on my bed, cocked her head to the side, evaluating my half-dried hair and my wrinkled bathrobe. I suppose she saw a little bit of herself in that moment, because she said, "We're going out. I don't care where. You better put on some clothes because I'll be back to check on you. Now hurry."
So in a semi-symbolic gesture, I unwrapped a shirt that I'd never worn from its tissue paper, pulled on my skinny jeans, and headed out with Rachel.
We walked the streets of uptown Cincinnati, drifting among outrageous price tags and sipping smoothies. I even tried on a very expensive, very lovely dress, and everyone ooohed and ahhed. I curtsied, felt oh-so-very princessy, and for one fleeting moment, forgot about Jason.
In due girly fashion, we each bought a slice of very rich chocolate mouse cake, and came home to watch 24. (Well, she is watching 24, anyway.)
And now I'm thinking about him again, crying a little, and trying to remain strong.
To my lovelies who emailed me, I will write you very, very soon. *hugs*
posted by The mini ninja at 8:35 PM
3 Comments:
Nope, it never gets any easier. But, it's the right thing to do, it needs to be done. And it sounds like your roommate has the right idea, what with that chocolate and all. Chocolate definitely helps.
Here's to living, sweet little Leslie.
At least you didn't rely on what I always do....stop eating, sleeping, and being responsive wahtsoever....I'm glad to hear you are at the minimum FORCING yourself to do things...I'm sorry it happened, but these things do...
Gab At Les
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