I woke up hating myself this a.m. I had a dream about Charlie, listening to that damn recording, and how I thought he was just sick that night, and I tried to take care of him.
I noticed, recently, that he overturned a picture of him and Quinn together that was taken seven years ago, the first year we were all friends. The two of them are holding up a pumpkin, in the pic, b/c it was Halloween. I love that picture. I should put it away before something happens to it. It’s the only picture I have of the two of them together, and I’m sure there won’t be another picture taken of the two of them, anytime soon.
I hate myself for missing Quinn. I hate myself for letting him touch me, and for doing… all the things I did. I hate myself for being happy during those two months, because I was so high on being wanted, and needed, again. I hate myself for not ending it, when I tried to, right before it all went wrong. We hadn’t hooked up in two weeks. And, then… the day Charlie sets a trap, we fall back into each other’s arms. So weak…. so foolish… I hate myself for being so impatient. For not being able to stand the lack of touch, and lust in my marriage… I hate myself for being too nuts to think my way out of my disorder. For letting my life become a Tennessee Williams play… (or, maybe something even darker, like something by Edward Albee…) I hate my stagnancy, and the fact that I don’t really know how to redeem myself, or forgive myself, and that I can’t even seem to save myself. I hate the way I’ve been kidding myself lately (trying not to beat up on myself, when I know I deserve just about every hit I take from me, or anyone else).
I guess, I’ve just given up, on everything, for the moment. These feelings probably won’t last, but I can’t be sure. I don’t feel sure of anything, right now. God damn rapid cycling. I feel sick, twitchy, and depressed, right now. I’ve lost any control over my thoughts and feelings. The PTSD has been really bad – painful and embarrassing thoughts and feelings hit me like bricks, without warning, and I can’t shake them. Sometimes, I twitch when this happens, but I try not to, because it makes Charlie think I’m even more nuts (he’s never said so, but he seems to think so, from what I can tell – he clearly notices, but won’t say anything).
God, he’s so beautiful. To look at… to know… and, to love… I’ve never known anyone else like him. At least I can still make him smile, and laugh with me. That’s something.
At least he still holds me at night. I keep telling myself, "I know he still loves me."
Still no word from Quinn. Maybe, we’ll see each other in hell.