vinylgirl's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- unsent Dear James, This is the letter I wish I had the requisite courage to write, but as you now know cowardice is much closer to me than courage. I am sorry about how things happened between us and I know it must be difficult for you to recognize this. For me it has always been easier to bear a few unbearably uncomfortable moments when I know I am going to run and not look back. I despise this, but it is hard to combat. Right now when I think of love, I am scared. I have kissed alot of frogs in my quest for the proverbial holy grail we make of love and this can, naturally, leave a bad taste in one's mouth. I don't think it was so much that frogs are slimey that makes it uncomfortable, but there are some frogs that produce poisons or toxins. They can cause hallucinations. Often this hallucinations are beautiful hazy images of lust, but like all drugs, the high comes to an end. Kissing these frogs can be dangerous, but exhilerating. So you keep kissing them. Then the world taps you on the shoulder and whispers that your heart appears to be escaping through the gaping space between your ribs. How embarassing. I have kissed alot of frogs. With the promise of the one everlasting high and ended up in a cold sweat. Excuses were never my forte really. I could never lie to my parents if I broke something. Catholic guilt I figure. Ready for a dose of truth? I remember vividly the second time you kissed me before I was going on vacation in mid June. I recall only expecting a couple small kisses, but you wanted to get your fill before I went away. Greedy boy. But, my eyes popped open like a porcelain doll and I was intensely aware of what was happening. My lips stopped moving. That was when I knew I could not let go. I tried and tried again to give us a chance. The idea was great. You really sold me on it with Waking Life. But there is still a part of me who still believes I don't deserve love. It is the gossip who twirls her hair and reminds me of my misdeeds. Remember when I told you I only packed a small carry-on bag? In truth I have a large trunk full of skeletons and a set of matching luggage. I was always the kind of girl who would tough it out and pack my own bags into the cab though. I wanted you to be the one who could make me happy, I really did. Here it is: it isn't you. I don't know who he is so it is not what you think. I don't know him yet. He may be far down the road, but we cannot continue pretending I might love you at some point. No matter how much you could have loved me, I would have liked you the same. That is the shitty break about love. I won't patronize you with the pleasantries of friendship because we might not be able to be friends anymore. At least no one can accuse us of not trying - some small consolation that is - and I am sorry. Take care, Allison 11:17 p.m. - 08/02/2006 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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