Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Borrowed Time

Now I've forgotten all the Funny Stories I wanted to tell in the first place. Today was that we took the pups to the ski hill again. Yesterday was something about the new Jeep. But now that it comes down to telling someone other than you, they've all flown out of my mind.

I wanted to tell her today that she ruined my lunch, but I was afraid she would come back with, "You ruined my life." It seems like something she would say, and I guess if I were in her situation I would have thought of something similar.

It's not like I try to drive by your house and stalk you; it just happens to be on the way to a lot of places I go. But every time I drive past it (especially when her car is sitting there, as it so often is), I'm reminded of all the negative qualities about your personality. You'll never know how much I hate that: to be reminded everyday of the bad things about you. To have to exert effort, no matter how little, to remind myself of the good things, the things about you that I love.

Love. Loved? Right now I want to get over you so badly. Is that...wrong?

Now, a couple days later, I have more Funny Stories. Some I've told to you, some I've forgotten. But last night I was so excited to talk to you (when am I not?), to tell you what I learned about felt and how they make Stetson hats and all the cool things I saw on Frozen Planet. I wanted to talk about the lawn chairs in the driveway of the house on the corner, how there are still two there even though the husband died and I could have sworn I saw one of those chairs out with the garbage last week.

Why can't I just be your friend for a month? What about me (or you) is making that so impossible? I've never had a problem with this before; I've always been ok with pretending when I had to. Maybe because up until now I've been so unflinchingly honest with you; it was a hallmark of our relationship: we were always honest with each other. At least...I was always honest with you, and you were more honest with me than anyone else. I'm starting to wonder if you ever tell the complete truth to anyone.

Do something awful so that I can move on, please.

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