I suppose the fact that I haven't lived up to that whole "writing each day" thing is indicative of everything else ... but oh well. I do my best.
I'm down to 184 pounds now. I burn through twelve songs (in "exercise mode") of Dance Dance Revolution about four times per week. I'm eating
significantly less now, too. Probably on the road to good health, I would imagine.
I've solved the insomnia problem, in what in hindsight is painfully obvious: don't sleep. I still fall asleep about once every three days or so,
for about eight hours, and it seems to be enough.
Boned. Just boned.
At least I got that speeding ticket taken care of.
Well, I'm finally being ushered along into San Jose. Being transformed into just another resource and filed away in a scrapbook.
"It's all for the best," I'm sure I hear everyone saying. I imagine it probably is -- with me gone, they'll be able to finally pick back up and
start their lives together. I'll be closer to the data center, so she won't even have to take care of that stuff at all anymore. She'll have more
time to fix their relationship, work on whatever issues in her life she decides need working on, and to truly enjoy her life. It's a shame I won't
get to see that beautiful glow anymore, given she'll be sharing it with someone else now once it comes back, but the little amount of happiness left
in me comes from knowing she'll be happy.
I know she wants to be my friend, and that she wants me to stay in her life. I believe her, too.
I even believe it when she says it hurts her too. It seems a bit skewed though. She's got who she wants. I don't. All my effort, love, changes,
everything... wasted. I helped her become a better person (she helped me grow, too, don't get me wrong), and now someone else gets to share that
better person's future.
This shit just happened to me in January with my ex-wife too. Spent years on that relationship. She's in far better shape these days than she
was when I met her. Seems like I'm the only one stuck in time, apparently not getting any better, or finding the right people to spend my life
Oh well. I keep on going because it's all I can do. I keep working hard and putting in my best because I promised I would. My promises seem to be
all I have left to cling to. I leave her home, because I promised her I would always be in her life until I died, or she asked me to leave, and she's
So I've got this bag of shit here ... where's the fan I'm supposed to throw it at? ... time's running out before someone else does it for me.