Sometimes the better things are, the harder it is to recover when they're over. Weekends are a tragedy to me. Days wasted, time spent not with him. The better the last day of the week is, the harder the weekend is to live through.
Days keep slipping by, marked only by memories of him. If something doesn't happen soon, I'm going to explode. And it really seemed like something was on the verge of happening.
He asked me how I was, and I said I was good. He rocked nervously back and forwardth on his heels, and I smiled up at him. "How will you be tomorrow?" he asked quickly, his words blending together. My pulse doubled. I ineloquently said "What..?"
He said it again, alternating looking at my face and the cement beneath us. He apologized for wording the question oddly, and I said it was fine, and I would be probably just as good tomorrow. Lies. I have serious depression problems on weekends.
The conversation dropped, and he left after a few minutes of talking about what we were doing on the weekend; his full of parties, mine... not.
And my stomach plummeted when I realized that there were still two and a half days until I could see him again. Days empty, no matter what I do.
Schools ending soon. Our time will run out. And then I will have the rest of my life to live, without him.
And I don't know if I can survive that.
I don't know if I can get over this.
May 9, 2009 at 9:34 PM
Ohhh. Jakalee. I know exactly how you feel.. Cheer up! Something good is bound to happen for you!