24.

it is just about acceptance.

and not hope for change.

and not hope for right.

and not hope for justice of the heart.

maybe it is just about learning that fire-spitting anger will always be there...that mind-paralyzing, body-numbing sadness will always be there...there is no longer existence without those two feelings.....there is only one way to achieve dissipation of them...and it involves a very long life of love-making....of fucking the pain away...as using intimacy as an eraser to all the wrongs we have done to each other. and i cannot do it alone. SL and fantasies do not equate mind-erasing, past-forgiving, unequivocal, intoxicating love.

it has come to be that hope wanes. but shock wears me like the layers of my skin. it does not wane. every day the reality of the void of him, of the rejection of him, of the not good enough of me....still stings, just as if it were the very first moment i learned he refused to catch me.

i hate me.

and i cant seem to think of him as anything more than that ppa that used me as a sex toy for his escape....no intention to ever make good on (empty) promises.

i hate her.

i shall learn to train the mind to use moments of distraction as living....and all the endless hours in between to be the long drought between sips of life.

i looked into the eyes of 24. and i saw a lifetime to be lived. and a reminder of one lost. i saw love and hope and a reflected a cold, closed heart with no room for wondering what if or could be.

what a long, long road this has been. maybe one day i will stop crying. it wont be today. or tomorrow. but it might be one day.