So, I can’t get anything done with my play.  For the first time quite a while, I’m too depressed to effectively create.  Which makes me want to rake razor blades across my skin…  I just don’t know how make myself functional, again.  It’s not like I was okay before everything hit the wall, but I hand more of a handle on things than I do right now.  Or, maybe, I was just calmer, because I thought I did.  Or, I was too manic to give a damn…  I don’t really know what I was thinking.  I know I was happy, but whatever…  living in a daydream will do that for you.  At play in the candyland of my imagination…

maybe, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, or what the hell was going on…  maybe, I was being used.  But, I was happy.  And, the crazy thing is…  I was as deeply in love with Charlie as I’d ever been.  I knew things had to end with Quinn, and one of the sad ironies of this story is that it probably would’ve ended, very  soon, if we hadn’t gotten caught, because Quinn and I both knew where I wanted to be.  Being wanted and needed again was amazing, but I started trying to work on things between Charlie and I, thinking that if I could get things right with us, it would be easier to walk away from the affair.  Quinn didn’t want to let go, but he never wanted to destroy my relationship.  He was a groomsmen at our wedding.  He loves Charlie.  I’m sure he’s sick over the damage we’ve done.  We’d gone two weeks without hooking up when it happened the last time.  And, unfortunately…  that was the day Charlie decided to leave an MP3 player recording when he went to work (he knew I would be hanging out with Quinn).  I should’ve known he’d outsmart me.  And, I probably would’ve known better…  if I’d been thinking straight.

Everyone involved in this scenario is pretty troubled.  Quinn’s depressive, and he used to fixate on suicide.  Charlie isn’t prone to suicidal thoughts, but he is horribly depressive.  He needs me.  I know he still needs me.  He wouldn’t have kept me close this long, otherwise.  It’s been a month, and we still sleep in the same bed, and he holds me every night.  We keep the same routines, and he’ll take care of me when I’m sick, and hold my hand when i’m sad, or scared.  It’s obvious that he still loves me, but he won’t say it out loud.  He’s only said it once since that awful day, when I found out he knew.  And, he won’t kiss me, or really touch me in any way.  

I’m hopeful that he’s holding on because he knows he might want to stay.  In spite of everything, he still loves me.  He might be trying to figure out if that’s enough to get him through this.  He hasn’t reiterated his intention to leave me since that day, (and that’s a month, now) but he hasn’t taken it back, either.  It’s so strange, but I’m not giving up on him.  I can’t.  He’s the love of my life.  As much as I miss my best friend, Charlie is my world.  He’s the center of everything.  He’s a part of me.  I can’t imagine my life without him in it, and I don’t want to.

I went to an exhibit on Bohemian art last night with a friend.  It was pretty cool.  She was trying to get me out of my misery for a little while.  It didn’t really work.

Today, I was walking down the street, twirling my umbrella, spraying cold rain in circles all around me, and singing along, while I listened to "Some Say I’m Not," by Mason Jennings, on my MP3 player.  The sky was gray, and the air was cold, but for the first time in the last month, I was on my own, and I wasn’t miserable.  I wasn’t happy, but…  I wasn’t daydreaming about wandering into traffic (so Charlie can get my life insurance money), and that’s an improvement.  This blog’s already excessive, so, I’m gonna cut out for now.  I hope you all find somethig worth having today.  Some moment of peace, or joy…  or some small piece of understanding… 

sometimes, we have to take what we can get.

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