In the Past

I don't know what Morpheus did with all those crazy-ass voicemails I left him while I was psychotic.

He never returned them, and he never talked about them afterwards.

Okay. Moving on.

The Silver Lining

I console myself with the fact that maybe if we were around each other every day, we would grow to hate each other like most couples.

Favorite Moments

"What?" He says, looking at me and smiling.

That's heaven.

Don't Laugh

When people laugh at the things I did while I was psychotic--I don't laugh with them.

I still have this guy I added on FAcebook because he lives in the same town Morpheus grew up so I magically knew that they were buddies and in the NSA together.

Yeah.

Okay. I laughed a little.

The Bipolar Life (Schizoaffective, I Mean)

Imagine life without meds.

It's the land of milk and honey.

Today I Wonder

Today, I wonder why Morpheus doesn't love me--

Enough.

Or--

Is it at all?

I wait for the day when I don't care about either answer.

The God of the Underworld

One of my best friends, Rosa, would remind me that I loved Hades, and therefore could love two people at the same time.

For reasons that are obvious to myself and the rest of the world, I like to shelve this fact. I like to shelve the entire relationship.

If you've ever washed dishes with hot water, hot enough to handle but burns underneath the gloves--that's what it's like to write about my last boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

What I realized today is, people never really leave you, the ex's still follow you around, good or bad, and they guide you along the path as you face a new lover, and take his hand for the journey.

I remember so much from my last relationship (not the one I write about the most, but my last actual committed relationship), and I carry it with me. I know it's a large part of why I haven't gotten into another one.

Maybe we only have so many chances before we burn out--even though there are innumerable lovers who wait to show us better ways.

I hear frequently as acquaintances my age are getting married or into new relationships, as they seem happy, and I wonder if my lacking came from childhood--if I'm trapped to repeat some pattern etched from when I was a toddler. At the same time, I feel genuinely grateful. I have felt the powerful force of love, and its gifts. I will not leave this life without experiencing the heights of it.

I will just leave without knowing it last.

I've never recovered. I have no libido, and I have no interest in pursuing any man.

I don't know when I will go back to being fully human.

Nightmares During DAy

While I was going insane (literally a mental breakdown), I would see in my mind Tyson's (Morpheus's dog) throat being slit by the Wife--a video being played, over and over.

I watched her smiling face--daring me--asking me to join her in the bloodbath. To stop her. To encourage her. To do anything to break the helplessness that consumed me.

The Wife stood there, holding the dog's lifeless body, holding the knife.

She was unconquerable.

Between the Black Out

I wake up. It's dark. I'm stretched out on the couch with my head in his lap. He's eating from a bowl of popcorn. The TV is on.

I get up, and wander into the spare bathroom, and vomit into the toilet.

Later, the next morning, I will be completely naked with no recollection of how I became so. I never take my socks off for sex, but my feet were bare.

All the Words You Sold

"I love everything about you," he says while standing in his kitchen, a consolation prize for not saying, "I love you."

I'm drunk and confused and feel like crying.

One Look

I saw him. Sitting in his truck, stopped at an intersection. He waved at me. For a moment, all those feelings rushed back.

I bargain with myself, I tell myself that I will never speak to him again, that he doesn't love me, that this cannot go on for years and years more. What to do with myself? Why endure the pain?

One look at his face, my resolve vanishes.

Promise Me Forever

We were having sex.

"Marry me," I said.

He doesn't answer.