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scathedobsidian

Chicago, IL

Member Since 2005

Followers 10 Following 17

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Thursday Aug 25, 2005

Aug 25, 2005
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Stayed home from the day job today working on getting some of the stuff for my business finished so I can get some of the stress out of my life.

My pen ran out of ink, and as I reached for a new one, my hand brushed against it, moving it out of the way - a little matchbook from a local restaurant.

I must have had fifty of them them in my life. On the back, they say "Parties!", in a fervent advertisement for catering.

She'd cut the letters out, rearranging them and taping them back into place. It says "Pirates", now.

I laughed at it for a moment, just as I'd laughed at it, just as CJ had laughed at it, just as the girl had laughed herself.

For a fraction of a second, I forgot that things have gone from so very right to so very wrong. For a fraction of a second, I forgot that my mind returns unpredictably to a despairing wish that it was obvious what could be done to make things right. For a fraction of a second, I forgot that I had told myself not to think about it, what we three had begun, and all the excitement and wonder we could put in one another's lives.

Of course, I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to. It doesn't dominate my mind - I couldn't afford to let it at a time like this - but having it nag at the back of my brain as I try to ignore it out of necessity and impotence almost seems worse.

Back to work. In a rare moment of actual journaling, I guess I just had to say it out loud, somewhere. I hope she doesn't mind.

I get more emo by the second; can't have that. Scotch will fix it. Emo kids don't have the balls for good scotch. I hope.

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