Thursday, June 03, 2004

My flat, Cresta

Thursday, June 03, 2004

Service: *
Food: * *
Ambience: * *
Babe Count: N/A

Troy Bentley and I are eating leftover Nik Naks from last night's movie party. I'm moping. Tonight's a very very very sore night for me. It's the one-year anniversary of my relationship with Jacqui, if we'd stuck it out.

She sent me an email earlier telling me that even though it's over between us, she wants me to know that she'll be celebrating one year of loving me, and that she still does. Oh man. This is so sore.

I sent her an sms back saying that I'm very angry with her. I'm angry with her for cheating me out of being with the love of my life, herself. I tell her in the sms that she cheated us out of a relationship because she lacked the courage to tell me the things that she needed to tell me, that her not telling me those things made it impossible for me to know that things needed to change.

She sent me one back saying:

"I think I feel some of that same anger towards myself too. I robbed myself too."

I sent her a reply saying that it's not too late, that even though her email blew my mind, and has succeeded in turning me away from pursuing her, we may still be able to try and make it work one day.

She didn't reply.

So Troy's here to offer support, and sorta keep me on an even keel. Thanks Troy.

I was supposed to be at my portrait circle tonight, but I just couldn't face it. Lionel Abrahams's death has me rattled. Jacqui's sms hurts like hell. And it's full moon on top of it all, and I respond very strongly to both new and full moon. It amplifies whatever mood I'm in.

Right now I'm down down down, even though I show a brave face at work and with my friends. Therapy this morning was hard, sore work. One of the primary things I'm feeling right now is that I'm profoundly alone. It's one of those judgements I seem to hold against myself from years gone by... that I'm somehow cut off from humanity. Witness my inability to deal with my mom or brother. Witness my not going to Lionel's funeral. Or my dad's, for that matter. A load of stuff I can dredge out to support my argument. Not that I'm going to. Cos I know it's actually just indulging the downness.

Ah well. I've got my next date with Bianca to look forward to, I suppose. And also the possibility of getting up on stage as a standup comic and using this raw, hard, sore material to make people laugh.

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