Longing. 04/29/05
Aiy, what a day. I did about three days worth of work in 9 hours, which makes me feel proud of myself and all powerful and shit, but I’m so burnt out.
Nothing left in the bank but the rent money and $50.
I have a giant blemish on my greasy forehead, and my overall complexion is somehow simultaneously orange yet grey. My eyes are bloodshot from staring at the screen, I look and feel dehydrated and weathered from all the sun and wind. But my hair is clean and silky and I put together a unique, attractive and flattering outfit of brown velvets. Perhaps I will get all the creams and paints and powders and potions out of my handbag and get to work on my face before he comes to pick me up from work… he will of course kiss off all of my lipliner and gloss and smudge off the concealer with all the nuzzling, but after 10 years I’ve come to not mind that really.
I miss Steve. I’m glad the scuba class will finally be over after this weekend, but all the nights he’d be off at class or at a game or out sailing while I tried to entertain myself have been kinda boring. What I’d like most is to get a chance to re-connect with him (just the two of us) for a full day sometime very soon, and to get together with friends at some point this weekend.
Being in love, to me, is addiction. An addiction to a magic of sorts, the closest thing I’ve ever come to experiencing the supernatural, something inexplicable and beyond the everyday human mortal experience, that's what being in love is. And one of my fears is falling out of love, or having the object of my obsession taken away from me. A fear of being left with nothing but a prosaic life of solitary drudgery. Being in love and doing my damnedest to keep it alive, fiery and bright, is hard but worth it.
