(no subject)
I deleted this journal. I didn't feel like I needed it anymore. I didn't feel like I was saying anything of any purpose anymore. And there's a chance that I won't post anymore. But tonight, I had to post. Tonight, there's no one to talk to. I've used it all up. The one person I might call at this moment isn't speaking to me. And frankly, I no longer have the energy to deal with anyone. I don't want to respond. I just want to spew. That's what this journal was for. That's why I created it in the first place. I let it change in my mind into something different. But I need to spew.
Miguel called me tonight. Drunk. He doesn't drink. He called me to tell me that his tumor metastasized to his liver. There's nothing else they can do. He won't make a miraculous recovery. He's stopping chemo. He called me to say goodbye. He called me to let go. Every part of my insides is ripped up. I can't finish sentences. I can only sob uncontrollably and hope this is a nightmare that I'll wake from soon. But it's not. It's my life. It's my truth.
He told me I'd be the last woman he'd ever love. And I had to think of all the times I told myself that I'm just blessed to have loved him at all. This is true, but I want him better, damn it. I want him to be healthy. I want us to have the life that we planned. But it will never happen. He won't see me again. He made sure to stress this. He can never see me again. No matter what I do.
There's nothing more. I can't make sense of this. I can't wrap my head around it. There's just nothing.
Miguel called me tonight. Drunk. He doesn't drink. He called me to tell me that his tumor metastasized to his liver. There's nothing else they can do. He won't make a miraculous recovery. He's stopping chemo. He called me to say goodbye. He called me to let go. Every part of my insides is ripped up. I can't finish sentences. I can only sob uncontrollably and hope this is a nightmare that I'll wake from soon. But it's not. It's my life. It's my truth.
He told me I'd be the last woman he'd ever love. And I had to think of all the times I told myself that I'm just blessed to have loved him at all. This is true, but I want him better, damn it. I want him to be healthy. I want us to have the life that we planned. But it will never happen. He won't see me again. He made sure to stress this. He can never see me again. No matter what I do.
There's nothing more. I can't make sense of this. I can't wrap my head around it. There's just nothing.