Search This Blog

Tuesday, 11 January 2011

Writing got me thinking got me writing

Now I'm feeling this urge to talk to EBF, you know? I want to start a conversation I know I won't end well, I want to tell him so much... I even went through some backwards N1 logic a while ago. I'm figuring that if it's so bad to just get the "have I told you yet...?" I'd better tell him about my going away and about LesMisGuy and my little one and... well, fuck-all, I know, but still. Those 3 are fairly big news and I really want to tell him only I don't have the heart to. So, what does my mind do? I start thinking of sending him an e-mail telling him all about it and explaining a thing or two about this blog (apparently, I still intend to tell him about it, if only so he can see the conversations I kept thinking of having but had no one to have with). It would seem I'm big on it, so I'll just go ahead and write an attempt at a letter, even if it doesn't really reach him because, what gives? I'm not studying anyway.

Dearest,

(In my thoughts he's always "dearest", just like LesMisGuy is now "gorgeous"... then again I probably would just start with the message, I never called him dearest and he wouldn't get the Sense and Sensibility reference)

I know, long time no talk. Not exactly your fault, I know. I know you've tried. I even had this dream I just remembered where you went away and missed me and wished we could talk like we used to, you know? That was a year, maybe two, ago. At the time I just told myself not to be silly. This isn't the sort of thing you solve, or fix, for that matter. You outgrew me. I'm not sure you realised. I was hurt, bitter and ashamed of it so I decided to keep my distance so I can just be lonely, which I'm more comfortable with. I even got mad at the little gestures, seeing them as "too little, too late" acts of hypocrisy. I suppose they weren't, not at heart... Like I said, not your fault.

Not much is new, really, but I do have big news (very much the only ones). In this order, this is how I came to know of them: I'm leaving the country, I have a new crush (which sort of makes me finally done missing D, not that you'd care much), and my little one died.

I'm leaving because my aunt and uncle in Tmp have offered to pay for my studies there, which becomes a bit of a mess with my studies here because I fucked up too many credits to be able to graduate before I leave, but I'll have to make do, somehow. It seems I'm leaving sometime around August. Something tells me I just won't be able to miss you getting back and I don't want that to be awkward. I don't want anything to happen then. I don't want to meet you. Like I said, bitter, sad and ashamed. You don't need to see it. Suffice it to say I'm leaving. It seems rude to just leave and not tell you because I figure maybe once you're back you'll want to go out and I can't tell you I won't make it because I'm out of the country. You had the courtesy to tell me you were leaving before you actually left, so the least I can do is be polite, right?

As for the new crush, it's strange... It's a guy I've been in class with since first semester. I realised he existed but never made much of it. Last semester we had almost all classes together. I got to know what his name was (only just last semester, I know). Near the end of the semester I noticed he looked my way a bit more often than I was comfortable with, so, as usual with this sort of thing, I freaked out and got really paranoid. But then I had the good sense to be flattered rather than disgusted. Then I remembered R1 and felt sorry that I couldn't like this guy back. I started to realise he was a truly great guy. Then, without really noticing it, I started liking him.

That leaves my little one. I know you wouldn't really understand, I know you wouldn't care too much. It's a big deal to me regardless. She had these mammary tumors. Some were removed right away. Maybe you got to notice when she became asymmetrical. Then some more grew back. Before we got to remove one that was growing like crazy something went off with her uterus, she got a nasty infection. I was still in class so my mum was the one to take her to the vet those times. I asked about the tumor but my mum said the vet had told her we could wait it out for months, that it would be easier to remove once it got bigger. Then it got bigger. A whole lot bigger. I was waiting until I could afford surgery when my dad said he'd pay for it if needed be. So we took her for surgery, but the vet found tumors in her ovaries and decided to perform a hysterectomy instead. I nursed her back to health. Then, right after Christmas it got bad. Really bad. In a matter of days she couldn't even breathe. We had to put her down. I held her and went without sleeping or eating for a fairly long time. I'm still not over it. I still can't fall asleep out of anything other than exhaustion because I don't have her snores to lull me to sleep. I blame myself, of course. And my mother. And the vet for not giving us the heads up on how bad it was, letting me think she could get better.

... Right... So, I gotta get a grip. I can't go on writing about my little one. You can tell it's bad. I can guess you don't really want to hear about it. So, that leaves an address. An address to a blog I've been writing. A blog is a fairly generic title. It's a webpage hosted by Google's servers where I write down as much as I can remember of my dreams, type my rants to let off some steam, and keep track of realisations and random musings. A good deal of it is stuff I would've told you about, stuff I would've wanted to talk about but had no one to tell about. So, don't take this so much as "here are the conversations I didn't start" when I gave up. Take this as a "what gives?". Don't read too much into any of it. You could probably do without reading any of it. It goes in regardless because I'm almost done caring, I think.

That's it, I think. There you go. I even cried writing about my little one. I'm such a wuss. And not over it. And a mess. And unlikely to remember to wake up early to make my schedule. Shit. That's it.

No comments:

Post a Comment