Note to self
I love Danielle. It's hard now that she doesn't love me to admit that it's all my fault she is gone. I thought she found someone new. If he can love her the way I do now or the way I used to, then it is okay for me to let her go. I'm jealous, angry, depressed and confused and that is why I reverted to immatureactions and my immature self. I don't want to even be her friend if she hates me now and won't even talk to me. I just need to relax. I need to go on, get a new job, drink herbal teas instead of beer and relax. I don't need to forget her. I don't want to forget her. We had too many good times. But I do need to relax. She'll probably never talk to me again after all the immature ways I've acted. But that's okay if that's what she truly wants. Right now I'm just lonely and sad and that's one of the reasons I hurt so much, can't eat, or sleep. Soon the lonesomeness may fade and I'll feel a little better, but I don't think I can be happy again. It used to be when I sat at home alone (as it is every night almost with Andy on the road and friends not wanting to talk to me because I'm crazy), when I would sit at home, I would look into the stars and feel good that she is under them, too, possibly looking at the same ones. But, now I just feel insignificant when I look into the vast emptiness of space.
She had all I lacked, creativity, passion for life, beauty (this list could go on forever). It is because of these qualities that I love her. She made me, inspired me even, to develop my own artistic side, passionate side, and I even took care of my looks for her. She did it enought that now I still pursue these qualities even without her. It'll be harder to pick up that camera or those tweezers without my inspiration, but I'm going to try. That's all any of us really can do, just try.
I would like to be her friend. Maybe we could have the occasional lunch, see the occasional movie, or even go to the occasional concert. If I never made love to her again, never held her in a passionate embrace, never kissed her precious lips or never wrote in invisible letters, "I love you" into her palm again, it would be okay, as long as I could get her friendship back and be the person I used to be whom she would turn to in times of trouble. I can't believe I lost my best friend. Were she to love me again, I'd be happy, but really, the important thing is her happiness. I love her one hundred percent and if she wants to be free and find whom she loves one hundred percent, I have to let her go. I have to relax and live my life for a while. I can do it, even without my inspiration. I can do anything. I always believed that. Especially now, no smoking, limited drinking (I am going to totally stop that, too, for a while, till I can deal with myself better) and more happy times. I can go far. I just have to be sober to remember the Fourth of October. That way, I really CAN relax and be able to let her go.
I'll always remember the good times. They are more important than the bad. The bad times were usually me just being immature. The good times were happy times. The day at Disneyland, the concerts and movies, taking care of eachother while sick, watching her walk onto the high school campus wearing poodle skirts and sunglasses, her beauty, her smile, making love for the first time (for both of us), the way she walked and the way she talked, cuddling close, holding hands, puking out the same window, the way we touched physically and emotionally while either of us was crying, Fourth of July's, this list could go on forever. What will haunt me for a while are my dreams of her. She was almost always in my dreams, and now she plays a central role in all of them. What I feel worst about is the way I treated her.
I miss her. I miss the way she made me feel. I miss the way I could make her feel. But, I can go on. I just need to stay relaxed when I write her or when I talk to her. Relaxation is important. It's the only way I can act mature. It's the only chance I have of her coming back some day far in the future. It's also the only way I can deal with her being gone if she never comes back. It's the only way I can move on. So today, I start again. I find a new job to replace this temporary one. I begin my track to good health with proper diet and excercise. I organize my room and more importantly, I organize my life. I don't have a real plan for the future any longer, but I can't think in "I should have"s. I am going to think in "I am"s. I am going to do something good for the world and for me.
None of this was her fault like I would claim in my drunken stupors or in my immature yellings. It wasn't really mine either. It was ours. There wasn't enough of a love-bond to hold us together. We loved eachother, and loved ourselves. Loving ourselves is both good and bad. We both got caught up in our immediate situations and listened to the advice or listened to the needs of those around us instead of eachother's needs. We couldn't love one hundred percent like we used to. It's horrible that when we were up north, fights would always end in making up. Break-ups, always with getting back together. Now we are here and the influence of others have turned us against eachother. I still love her and every bone in my body misses her terribly. But, to prove this, I am going to leave her alone until we can be friends again. This may be never. This may be tomorrow. The point is, I am going to e-mail her once more to say goodbye finally. Actually, since you're the only one who reads this Squirmy, Cute-butt, Girlygirl, Dani, here it goes. I love you, but . . . Goodbye until both of us are mature enough (especially me) to talk in a civil way. Goodbye until our love is totally faded and gone, but perhaps, hopefully, friendship will remain. Goodbye Danielle.
She had all I lacked, creativity, passion for life, beauty (this list could go on forever). It is because of these qualities that I love her. She made me, inspired me even, to develop my own artistic side, passionate side, and I even took care of my looks for her. She did it enought that now I still pursue these qualities even without her. It'll be harder to pick up that camera or those tweezers without my inspiration, but I'm going to try. That's all any of us really can do, just try.
I would like to be her friend. Maybe we could have the occasional lunch, see the occasional movie, or even go to the occasional concert. If I never made love to her again, never held her in a passionate embrace, never kissed her precious lips or never wrote in invisible letters, "I love you" into her palm again, it would be okay, as long as I could get her friendship back and be the person I used to be whom she would turn to in times of trouble. I can't believe I lost my best friend. Were she to love me again, I'd be happy, but really, the important thing is her happiness. I love her one hundred percent and if she wants to be free and find whom she loves one hundred percent, I have to let her go. I have to relax and live my life for a while. I can do it, even without my inspiration. I can do anything. I always believed that. Especially now, no smoking, limited drinking (I am going to totally stop that, too, for a while, till I can deal with myself better) and more happy times. I can go far. I just have to be sober to remember the Fourth of October. That way, I really CAN relax and be able to let her go.
I'll always remember the good times. They are more important than the bad. The bad times were usually me just being immature. The good times were happy times. The day at Disneyland, the concerts and movies, taking care of eachother while sick, watching her walk onto the high school campus wearing poodle skirts and sunglasses, her beauty, her smile, making love for the first time (for both of us), the way she walked and the way she talked, cuddling close, holding hands, puking out the same window, the way we touched physically and emotionally while either of us was crying, Fourth of July's, this list could go on forever. What will haunt me for a while are my dreams of her. She was almost always in my dreams, and now she plays a central role in all of them. What I feel worst about is the way I treated her.
I miss her. I miss the way she made me feel. I miss the way I could make her feel. But, I can go on. I just need to stay relaxed when I write her or when I talk to her. Relaxation is important. It's the only way I can act mature. It's the only chance I have of her coming back some day far in the future. It's also the only way I can deal with her being gone if she never comes back. It's the only way I can move on. So today, I start again. I find a new job to replace this temporary one. I begin my track to good health with proper diet and excercise. I organize my room and more importantly, I organize my life. I don't have a real plan for the future any longer, but I can't think in "I should have"s. I am going to think in "I am"s. I am going to do something good for the world and for me.
None of this was her fault like I would claim in my drunken stupors or in my immature yellings. It wasn't really mine either. It was ours. There wasn't enough of a love-bond to hold us together. We loved eachother, and loved ourselves. Loving ourselves is both good and bad. We both got caught up in our immediate situations and listened to the advice or listened to the needs of those around us instead of eachother's needs. We couldn't love one hundred percent like we used to. It's horrible that when we were up north, fights would always end in making up. Break-ups, always with getting back together. Now we are here and the influence of others have turned us against eachother. I still love her and every bone in my body misses her terribly. But, to prove this, I am going to leave her alone until we can be friends again. This may be never. This may be tomorrow. The point is, I am going to e-mail her once more to say goodbye finally. Actually, since you're the only one who reads this Squirmy, Cute-butt, Girlygirl, Dani, here it goes. I love you, but . . . Goodbye until both of us are mature enough (especially me) to talk in a civil way. Goodbye until our love is totally faded and gone, but perhaps, hopefully, friendship will remain. Goodbye Danielle.