A Non-Newtonian Fluid (maddening) wrote,
A Non-Newtonian Fluid

I got my very real, very solid, papery, cardboard like booklet of tickets in the mail today.
calmness is what permeates me. Sureness. Calmness. I am clear headed. I'm doin alright, baby. I'm coo. My mom was testing pens the other day to find one that writes well. I found the piece of paper. It says "Linda linda LINDA Linda L Monkey Butt Linda."
On the same piece of paper is a phone number for Steve and a hotmail adress labled "psycho chick." I have to write her today I think. I have been thinking about calling Cheryl. I really want that photo of me and Tom.
It's just a bad little picture. Self photo of me and him laughing on my bed. Camera at arms length so we're way too close and those odd looks while we tried to look normal, knowing the camera was capturing. But he carried it in his wallet. For more than 3 years he carried it in his wallet. And it's bunged up now. The last time I saw it, it had almost no gloss to the surface, the edges were frayed, and the plastic photo thing it was in was sort of stuck to it. But we still smiled in the picture.
It's all I wanted. And I'm sure she knew that. I don't think she ever understood how he could say that he loved her, and mean it, but still leave her sitting in the living room for 3 hours while he giggled on the phone with me, sitting in their closet. I know it made her angry that I was always more than just some other friend to him. And I know it confused her that she couldn't accuse him of any of the typical things because there was nothing else going on there besides this unbreakable connection that meant we were always going to be a very real part of each others lives.
We slept in the same bed. For warmth in the winter.
He drew pictures of me. When he was awake at 3 am again and I'd be passed out in an interesting fall of light.
he always brought home flowers that I put in vases, but were definitely more for him.
And we loved each other completely. So I was thrilled for him when he fell in love.
I suppose it's hard to understand. That's why we never asked anyone to.
And as much as I would love to have that picture, I guess it's better that she hold onto it so maybe looking at it one day, she'll understand.
This has been so very much on my mind lately. The dead guy. Why now... I'm not really sure. I think because he always wanted me to live more. And I'm living more. And , selfish living person that I am, I want him here to smile at me while I live.

I've also decided... and yes, I've said this before... that this is my journal. That means I say whatever I like. And if any of the people reading this decide they've got a problem with what I say... while you are free to comment and hash it out with me, you might want to just take me off that friends list. I'm open to conversation about these things... but not open to criticism. What I say is what I say. It may change quite a bit. But I won't be made to feel like I've done something wrong or that I should censor myself.
That's happened before and it won't happen again.
Now that I feel like a right horrid bitch....

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