Well. Suffice to say that tonight did not turn out anything like I had hoped or expected it to.

I popped/injured my jaw. Again. Third time in two months, but it had never happened to me before. I honestly don’t know what gives and wonder if this is an indication that I should have it checked out. Point is, I am in excruciating pain once more, physical pain to match my mental/emotional pain.

I had been wanting to cry all day while I was at school, and not because of my jaw. That incident didn’t occur until I was nearly home. Honestly, a few tears did escape, but they did so during a lecture so nobody noticed. At least I don’t think anybody did. Regardless, I was able to hold it together all day long and couldn’t wait to get home and simply let loose.

Let loose I did.

I got home at around 5:30, went straight to my bedroom, kicked off my boots, changed into pajamas, crawled into bed, burrito’d myself in my blanket, and cried. Cried, cried, cried. Not just tears, either, oh no. I sobbed, nice and loudly, right into sleep. I woke up nearly two hours later because I received a text message from my sweet sweet Dustin. “I love you,” it read. So simple, but as appreciated and meaningful as ever. I was in no mood to watch the game because it only served as a reminder that Dustin was not with me, so I got up and showered instead.

I must have been in there for half an hour. Ridiculous, right? (I pose these questions, but no one ever answers! They are not rhetorical. Comments, friends!) I did not want to come out. I wanted to stay in there, away from the world, eyes closed because the water was falling into my face, and just forget about everything. My loneliness, my disappointment, the week of exams ahead of me, the stress, everything. I realize that I wasted water, but I recycle vehemently and do not eat meat. My constant enviro-friendliness should more than make up for my one night of reckless waste. I needed it.

Wouldn’t it be great if all unhappy thoughts and feelings could be washed away with tears and showers?

I’m rambling tonight, please bear with me.

So I crawled back into bed (after I felt guilty enough about the water being wasted to get out of the shower) and started to send Dustin a long string of text messages that essentially declared my current state of funk. He is so great to put up with it. During the baseball game, no less! This is why I constantly brag about what a great boyfriend he is. He just is! Oh how I miss him!

Dustin is my first love. At twenty-five, I fell in love for the first time and it was with him. Before meeting and falling for him, people (er… women) would react with surprise when I admitted that I had never been in love, especially the more I aged. Many of them congratulated me. “Good,” they would say. “Being in love leads to so much trouble. You are not in control of yourself when you are in love. It complicates things.” I listened, only because I wanted to convince myself that I was better off being alone, that love could and should wait, that I had other things to experience before experiencing love. They couldn’t be entirely right, though. Not when there are so many songs about how beautiful love is. Never mind the fairy tales and the happily ever after movies. Music assured me that love is good, that romance exists, that falling was more of a rising.

Now I am in love, and those ladies were correct to a certain extent. I would not be so miserable if I didn’t love Dustin so much. I wouldn’t feel so lonely if the time I have already spent with him throughout our relationship wasn’t incredible. I wouldn’t long to see him so much, the disappointment would be less severe, I could simply watch a dumb movie and immediately feel better. That is not the case, though. I AM FUCKEN BUMMED. This is what love has done to me. And that is fine.

Our fairy tale ending will come. This is us working to get there. This is our struggle (I feel that I struggle more than he does, but I may be entirely wrong. I know he feels it too, he just does not want to tell me so because I think he feels that it will somehow make me feel guilty(?) or feel worse about being away. I don’t know. This is probably something he and I should talk about). This is the rising action of the plot. We will romance each other throughout before the grand finale. Then we will live our lives as two of the happiest lovebirds that could ever be! We will give hope to those still waiting for love or those who have been burned by love! Love is true, it exists, it beats you down at times, but it never ceases to be beautiful!

Aside from crying, writing helps me get through my funks. I better take my poor Canelo Dog out now.


2 thoughts on “Spilling.

  1. Hey Daisy its me Cristina from rvh. Been keeping up with your blog (because I'm nosy)just wanted to say…Hang in there okay. It eventually stops raining …

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