I slept for ten hours. From roughly 3pm to 2am. I woke up, phoned a friend, and sooked some more.
However, today is Monday. I have things to do at work. I’m eternally grateful for a full-time writing job. It demands that I focus in ways outside of my ordinary thought patterns. Continue reading
The weekend is passing effectively. It’s somehow Sunday morning… I sufficiently cycled another 24 hours of crying and sleeping.
In my latest emergency call to David to cry about the luthier; he brought forward a new theory to my present state of disarray.
“I don’t think he realized…” Continue reading
Someone told me yesterday that they found my writing to be romantic. My reply was, “I think I’m more of a master of heartbreak…”
Maestro di crepacuore.
I honestly do believe, after my most recent heart slashing, I’m done.
Finnito. Continue reading
I’m about to bleed poetry.
I’ve had my apartment back to myself for two days since having company for three weeks; as my soul mate‘s family revealed health issues back in Italy, which means he’s out the door.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop crying at this point. But that’s ok, eyedrops help, and at least I’m discrete. Dipping into restrooms, trying to avoid houseguests.
Sto morendo. Continue reading
I’ve been limping over the luthier the past few days, and longing for Sperlonga.
The truth is, the love of my life and I didn’t fall out – life simply occurred. International issues with family do nothing for new found feelings. And so it ended, abruptly and instantly. Continue reading