Like my finger on your cheek

Tadoussac, Quebec, October 2004

Saturday, July 24, 2004

Damn that calling card.

"I'll call you tomorrow "....don't. Don't. Don't call me tomorrow, or the day after, or the other day after that.

Call me when you sort your stuff out...when you know what you want...when you have something to tell me. Something real, tangible, that I can touch, feel and know it's there, like my finger on your cheek.

I don't want to be the needy girl. The whiny girl. YUCK.......I can barely stand myself...The single mom that you settled for, the one who wasn't what you expected but hey what the hell, the one that wasn't PERFECT. The one that made you give up on having kids you can call your own. The one who made you leave your country, your family, your friends. The one you put all your hopes and dreams on her little shoulders, inside her heart, inside her soul. The one who loves you, but is not too sure what it means.

She just can't take it. It's too much to ask of her. She just had a taste of what could be and she liked it. A lot. For some reason she knows it's just going to blow up in her face.

Don't call.
Do write. Stay in fiction, away from reality.
It will be easier. For me.

You are not real.
You exist in an unreachable world, that I can only dream of having.
Fiction is comforting.
Reality hurts like hell.
I always end up crying.

Write.
Don't call.

I love you.
This was a great vacation.
Thank you baby.

The unexpected overexposed lover you may never have again