Instinct

Ate today. The first real meal in four days. Pizza - Hawaiian with green peppers. And cheesy bread to boot. And I smiled as much as I could muster. Dean Martin says that when you smile the whole world smiles with you. If nothing else, I'm testing his theory.

I shouldn't take credit for writing this one, but it's perfect:

Bloody lot of good
our good intentions did us
we still have fucked up


I spent a long long time convincing myself that it was meant to be, that he was 'the one'; I spent a lifetime struggling to trust him. Maybe two. He is not the one, at least not now. And I can't have him, and he surely can't have me. It's embarrassing more than anything else. What a terrible choice I made going against my instincts like that. What a stupid, naive thing to do, Allison. Perhaps I've learned something - we can only hope. I certainly don't feel like I've aced the course.

The pain has subsided surprisingly quickly - no need for excessive drink, or excessive crying, or excessive yelling or blaming or any of that ugliness. It's almost as if my heart knew it was coming, even if my brain didn't. Good old smart heart. Walling yourself in like that - keeping the invaders at bay. I should have listened harder.

Still, I cry a little. I cry for the loss of the story I wanted to tell. The greatest love story of all time. He won't be a part of it. He was my best friend, and my worst enemy... and, as fate would have it, my worst friend.


I bought myself a book, and a bookmark with an owl on it. Stands for wisdom, but I don't know why. I always assumed birds had small brains and routinely flew into windows, breaking their little necks. I liked the owl, though. His eyes are big. Maybe he sees more that way.