three weeks

Well, another ending approaches. Steven told me he is leaving for Nevada in about three weeks. I'm doing really well at not letting it show how much my heart is breaking. To most I'm all smiles, but I secret myself away and then the tears come.

The irony is that I know it's a good thing. He just won't stop using drugs and I'm unhappy the way things are. Am I doomed to always feel regret and sorrow?

He says that he wants to get his life cleaned up and have me fly out there in a few months. He wants me to see if I like Reno, enough to possibly move out there. Oh how I long to leave this place, but do I have the guts to do it? Am I just chasing a fleeting dream that's no more real than the fabrications of history I've created to keep people at a distance?

No one really knows me anymore...but I think Steven has seen most of it and it scares him. I think I'm too much for him.

I'm sitting here in the dark, as I usually am when I write such as this, tears glistening down my face, aching in my stomach and I'm fearful of the future. I have three weeks left to fill with memories. Three weeks spent in desperate need to not think.

Three weeks left.

more and more

My heart is breaking. Much of the time I sit alone, even when he's in the room; always aware of how he doesn't touch me.

He says it's because of his being molested when he was younger. He says it's because he has to be the one to initiate it or it freaks him out. He says that he wants to be with me.

He says alot of things.

I found out that he's been using again; one night he didn't even come home. Why did I allow myself to care again. He makes me feel so ugly and stupid. He says things will get better once he starts working again. He says that he's still attracted to me, just that he's not felt too aroused because of his recent using. He says he never wants to do it again.

He says alot of things. And I'm finding I'm not believing more and more.

and here it is

and here it is
gritting my teeth at your voice
shaking at the thought of you
plotting your departure
lusting for your anger

and here it is
still craving your touch
missing your kisses
wondering at your distance
lusting for your love

and here it is
locked in hatred