Wednesday, 08/26/09 - 10:57 pm.
Ugh, this week is so slow. It's as sluggish as I am every morning. And yet, I've noticed, months fly by. How's that possible? The days are painfully slow but the months go by so fast. I get scared when the year is getting to the -ber months...they're my favorite part of the year, but also a reminder that time never stops and I'm growing old.
By the end of this afternoon, I started thinking about Joseph. I know it's very unhealthy, but I have not much else to occupy my mind on. I wish he saw me one day, walking down the street from work. I wish that everyday. But as I was wishing that this time around, my imagination went farther and I heard his voice calling my name. Tears piled up instantly. I miss his voice.
It reminded me of the one time he called me after he got married; I'd just gotten my tattoo, so it must've been may...that's when I decided to severe our ties for good. That time he called me, I started to cry as soon as I heard his voice. And this is probably a good reason to never get in touch with him again: I'd cry. If I saw him, I'd cry. If I heard him, I'd cry.
Then at home I realized that I can't get over that sense of failure. I failed him. It's amazing the lenghts he went to be with me, and all that was flushed down the toilet because I failed to fill his expectations in the end. I say it's amazing, and I say it in a heartbreaking way, because I remember how strongly and passionately we felt about each other, and then all that faded away. For him, anyway. For me, he went beyond my expectations in almost every aspect, even with all his flaws.
So I'm ashamed. I'm ashamed because it feels like I managed to make him fall out of love with me. This is something I don't see myself getting rid of, ever. He stopped being in love with me and he found somebody better than me, somebody worth marrying that wasn't me, even when he swore for years that such thing was impossible (yeah, yeah, I know you say dumb things when you're in love).
I don't know what to do to genuinely stop feeling like crap about Joseph. I mean, I know what to do: stop thinking about him; I think and I feel like crap. But I can't do it all the time. At some point all my distractions dissapear and I have to face him again. The only real way to stop feeling bad would be erasing him from my memory, but it just so happens that what I have left of him are my memories of him, and you have no idea how much I want to keep them. I have some stuffed toys, two knives, some clothes, a picture of him...my memories give a sense to those those things.
And maybe I still think about him so much because I wish he did the same with me. But that's impossible, he's got a wife and a baby on the way. There's no room for the past in his life, not when the present is so bright (for some reason, I can NOT imagine him being unhappy, although part of me wishes he was). I think about him hoping to generate some kind of energy that will hit him, how silly is that? Hoping that, out of the blue, he'll stop and think of me, too. And feel sorry for harming me so much, for leaving me; hoping he'll miss me. Because I miss him.
Most of the times I say he can't do me any more harm. And it's true: he's already gone through everything I feared he would (new girlfriend, marriage, baby). I've moved on and the way he lives his life now is none of my bussiness. But that's most of the times. Sometimes, like now, his ghost comes back and haunts me. He still harms me.
After every paragraph of this entry, I have to stop to wipe my tears and breathe properly. I take a little break between parapraghs to hold my head and sob a little. I've been awfully weak this week, haven't I? Right now I feel like january is just past around the corner. All this intense hurt, it's like the cause of my pain happened no more than a couple of days ago, and not 10, almost 11 months ago...
...Jesus. Soon it's going to be 12 months. Soon it's going to be a year since the day he dumped me. Soon, Mr and Mrs Smith will celebrate the glorious day she decided to move in with him, regardless of him having a girlfriend.
And I can't go on. I shouldn't go on.
You know, sometimes I make myself pretend that Joseph is dead.
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