vinylgirl's Diaryland Diary

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a Japanese man with the bluest eyes

I stand by the wisdom that great happiness can only be truly enjoyed and known through suffering. If all you knew your whole life was good fortune, could you really call it happiness with nothing to compare it to? Of course there is a happy medium between some suffering and undue suffering. I feel this crushing loneliness. Red wine always gives me a headache, but it helps to take the bite out of the cold.

"You weren't kidding when you said you live out in the boonies."

The bite of the cold drew him close to me and his hand caressed my silk bolero sleeve. I felt nervous and scared; my index and middle fingers lingered on my lower lip. It felt good to be in someone's arms, someone who (claimed to) really care(s) about me. His breathing was affected by his shivers and he rested his head on my shoulder. I kept the glass of water in my hand: comfort. My mind kept wanting to let go. Let go of all my preconceived notions of relationships and my heartaches past. Part of me thinks this is not just heartburn that can be cured with an antacid. The other half of me thinks it would be nice to be happy for a change.

One of his friends has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen on a Japanese man. A mild flirtation with music conversation, but suddenly it happened. His blue eyes shifted to the typical agreeable girl. They talked about how much better the weed in British Columbia is in comparison to that grown here, but I wanted to talk about how incredible Vancouver is or how the Rocky Mountains and the ocean create an incredible view. As per usual, so I took a large sip of my wine. The grass is always greener, they say.

On the ride home I tried my best to make conversation.

"So I guess it will be nice to have the day off tomorrow."

"Yeah. It will."

The strong silent type is not his strong-suit. On my porch his hug was warm and drawn out with a kiss on the cheek - cherry on top. Relief. I struggled with my keys for some reason. What am I holding onto? There is part of me holding onto my paper doll man. I thought I was so much bigger than that.

I have been waiting three years this month to walk down the street with my new beau and run into my ex. I wanted to feel like I had really moved on and prove to him how desirable I am. I wanted to show him I could be happy without him, in fact, happier. I have been waiting three years to prove myself to someone who just didn't love me enough. There was nothing I could do about that, but I always felt I needed to prove myself to him. The only person I needed to prove anything to, is me. It doesn't matter whether I am wearing the right dress or how beautiful the man is. In fact, if the man is beautiful it will not have any effect. The only way it will have any impact is if the man I am with means something to me.

Alli xo

12:33 a.m. - 05/22/2006

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