An Ice Blue Parasol
I miss John. The small things, I guess. But what is a relationship in the end but all the small things? On the other hand, there could be someone out there that intellectually fulfills me much more and that does all of these little things, too.
I don't know.
I just know I miss John. My John. My John plus the changes he proposed making would be infinitesimally better. But would it feel right? I was so numb when I proposed cutting off all communication for a month. So numb that I was concerned I'd forget the month marker, December 2nd. Now I seem to be thinking about that date more and more, in a weird kind of anticipation that borders on apprehension.
I don't know how to feel, but I'm welcoming the confusion as a replacement for apathy.
I want someone who appreciates me. It's been a long time since I've felt appreciated by John. My confidence shuddered before it grew and I saw his lack of appreciation as a kind of shortcoming. I wasn't smug about it, but I saw something in myself that he wasn't getting. I told him I felt like he didn't understand me. I want someone who understands me.
My father said John's in shambles - he went over last Sunday to work on the house with him. Apparently, his mother was also there, cleaning the basement or something - she made my father laugh by saying, "I don't know what's in that room, but I opened the door and there's no way I'm going in there." I don't blame her.
John asked my father if he should just give up and move on with his life. My father said he couldn't advise him either way. John replied that he didn't want to give up. I'm guessing John cried - my father seemed very moved. My father also said that John's been doing a ton of stuff - practicing piano again, reading up on rhetoric, watching various documentaries; he's finished three books. John told him that he hates being along and it's so difficult, but that it's also a good thing.
I sent John a drunken text on Friday night, which I shouldn't have. It was very tame and pretty ridiculous (a compromise between rational Tasha and drunk Tasha), but I shouldn't have crossed the boundary. There's been no communication since his reply, and it feels like it's been long enough a time that I shouldn't expect anymore (which I'm glad of).
I said: I hope you're doing very well.
He replied: I've been doing my best to focus on growing. I miss you so much and am so sad. There's been progress though, and I know more of what I want. I hope you're doing well. I love you Tasha. I hope this is helpful. I miss you so terribly not because I'm alone. I've come to terms with that. I don't want to bombard you which I'm sure I'm doing a little. Just know that I love you that I'm hear for you and that I'm doing all I talked about and more.
His reply met his aim: it touched me deeply.
It's only been a week now. Crazy.
P.S. I'm in the draftiest fucking room on the planet. And Liz has a piece of tape on the thermostat to ensure that it stays at 60 degrees. I don't mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I'm not sure I'll even make the month here.
I don't know.
I just know I miss John. My John. My John plus the changes he proposed making would be infinitesimally better. But would it feel right? I was so numb when I proposed cutting off all communication for a month. So numb that I was concerned I'd forget the month marker, December 2nd. Now I seem to be thinking about that date more and more, in a weird kind of anticipation that borders on apprehension.
I don't know how to feel, but I'm welcoming the confusion as a replacement for apathy.
I want someone who appreciates me. It's been a long time since I've felt appreciated by John. My confidence shuddered before it grew and I saw his lack of appreciation as a kind of shortcoming. I wasn't smug about it, but I saw something in myself that he wasn't getting. I told him I felt like he didn't understand me. I want someone who understands me.
My father said John's in shambles - he went over last Sunday to work on the house with him. Apparently, his mother was also there, cleaning the basement or something - she made my father laugh by saying, "I don't know what's in that room, but I opened the door and there's no way I'm going in there." I don't blame her.
John asked my father if he should just give up and move on with his life. My father said he couldn't advise him either way. John replied that he didn't want to give up. I'm guessing John cried - my father seemed very moved. My father also said that John's been doing a ton of stuff - practicing piano again, reading up on rhetoric, watching various documentaries; he's finished three books. John told him that he hates being along and it's so difficult, but that it's also a good thing.
I sent John a drunken text on Friday night, which I shouldn't have. It was very tame and pretty ridiculous (a compromise between rational Tasha and drunk Tasha), but I shouldn't have crossed the boundary. There's been no communication since his reply, and it feels like it's been long enough a time that I shouldn't expect anymore (which I'm glad of).
I said: I hope you're doing very well.
He replied: I've been doing my best to focus on growing. I miss you so much and am so sad. There's been progress though, and I know more of what I want. I hope you're doing well. I love you Tasha. I hope this is helpful. I miss you so terribly not because I'm alone. I've come to terms with that. I don't want to bombard you which I'm sure I'm doing a little. Just know that I love you that I'm hear for you and that I'm doing all I talked about and more.
His reply met his aim: it touched me deeply.
It's only been a week now. Crazy.
P.S. I'm in the draftiest fucking room on the planet. And Liz has a piece of tape on the thermostat to ensure that it stays at 60 degrees. I don't mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I'm not sure I'll even make the month here.