as told to (your name here)

D-Day +364, 2359 hours

I just can't write about it. I've tried a couple of times already, and there's nothing that I want to have to look at for the next 24+ hours until I write something to push it further down the page. Remembering it isn't difficult, even though my memory sucks (I'm an old man, keep up). The memories aren't painful emotionally. I think what is painful is that it's not an interesting story. It's not Casablanca. It's not Love, Actually. It's about as romantic as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, without all the cool martial arts. (Though my story does also have ninjas.) Some of you would think that it is romantic, and for all I know it may very well be. Even if it was painful, that's not enough to keep me from writing it down. I haven't been afraid so far to tell you that I allow myself to cry. Granted, I cry at movies, not at real life. I was upset for a day or two when she left for good, but I didn't cry. I knew it was already over, and you don't cry over something that dies so slowly that all you've left to do is recognize that it's dead.
...
I've written and deleted a few attempts to follow up that last sentence. An aborted attempt to tell a story about my former flight-instructor, always yelling at me for not recognizing the highways he'd put me over. Another aborted attempt to reference some of the blogs I read- other people who don't recognize death or disease around them. It's not my job to point these things out to you, and if I did you'd feel the sudden shock for which you're clearly not ready. Sometimes it is better to peel the (brand-name withheld) bandage off slowly.

I don't want to dwell on anything. I don't want to think about the past. Mistakes were made that cannot be undone no matter how repentant I might feel. I don't want to dwell on the future, one that I just cannot seem to get started. Just a tiny bit of Frustration there. Mistakes will be made. The real-life inspiration for Bobby, the friend of Tony from my 2-part story, is coming to town in a few weeks. I haven't seen him in ages. His email read, "Hookers and blow- my treat. And wait until you see the tits on my 21-year-old girlfriend!" He's a few years older than me and certainly doesn't dwell. He's not exactly a good role-model though.

posted by tinyhands @ 12:59 PM