by Amelia Danielle

Created on: April 15, 2008

I stared at the blank page in my journal for the last few minutes of the hour. Music on, candles burning, and thoughts racing through my mind. If only I could catch one, write it down; maybe I could sort this whole thing out. I knew inside, in the parts of my heart that were hidden behind locked doors and leaky caves that no matter what I wrote down about my shinning ex, nothing would bring him back any faster than when he was ready. So I wrote:

THIS COMPLETELY SUCKS. I MISS HIM. I LOVE HIM. THIS SUCKS.

I signed off at the bottom of the page as I usually do with that heart next to my name that I've drawn at the bottom of every journal entry since I was 12 years old. I stared at the page, envious of it's simplicity then ripped it out and threw it across the room. What was the use. He'd called me that evening, before I'd reached for my leather-bound Italian imported journal as if it were the Messiah. We passed casual conversation between us for about 20 minutes and then he said he'd better get off because he had to finish packing. He was moving to Houston. I wish I could have protested but I was no better. I had moved to New York. What seemed to be an amicable decision for the development of our selves as people (or something like that) turned out to be slow torture for me and the second coming of Christ for him. He was so laid back, so dapper and calm. I had turned into a worse spaz than before. It took all my might not to beg for him back as I listened to him flip through channels in what used to be our living room back in California. I could picture the imaginary girls he would meet in Houston, they would think I was such an idiot to let a well mannered, educated, attractive man like him go. 'She must be a complete fool with bad hair and no sense of style.' They would surely say.

As I tucked my precious journal back onto it's place in my crowded bookshelf, a calm came over me. It could have been the fourth glass of wine, but I'd like to think it was God lulling me to sleep by taking away the ugly shadows my thoughts had placed on me all day. I took in a deep breath and sighed leaning back against my headboard. I got up and flipped off the light and laid back down in the bed. I knew eventually I'd have to get up and blow the candles out. But first I had to respond to the tugging at my shoulder.

"C'omon baby girl, you said when you were done writing in that journal we could do it again."

I looked over at him, that man who's name was unimportant, and smiled. Being lonely and desperately missing my ex sucked in ways I never imagined even knowing about; but it didn't change the fact that I had needs. I slipped under the covers and left my mind floating above us on the ceiling. It would be there in the morning.

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