The end?

In that epically terrible sci-fi thriller, Flash Gordon, with the golden chords of queen supporting it, the movie ended with Ming dying and his body disappearing. his ring lay on the floor. "THE END" appeared on the screen. A moment passed before a large question mark appeared after the word "end". THE END?

I know the feeling.

Music man left me this week. After eleven months. I loved him. I was hoping to spend the rest of my life with him. But a month and a half ago he stopped trying. And so of course he began to distance himself. And then he told me he didn't love me anymore.

And then he told me he didn't love me anymore.

I love him. I'll never stop loving him entirely. And the more we live our separated life, the more I have trouble believing that he doesn't love me. But even if that's true, and he does try to come back, he'll have had to change as a person.

Love isn't always a spark you can feel. Sometimes it's an action. You may not feel it at the moment. But it is still there. And you should work at it. Because it is worth it. Unless there are truly problems with the relationship. Like domestic violence or arguing all the time.

We had a perfect relationship until he dived into depression. He stopped trying to love me. And so it's over. I miss him so much. We still live together in our beautiful home, and I still have to miss him. I sometimes lie in his bed while he's at work just so I can smell his scent on the pillows.

He was supposed to love me forever.

Even if he wanted to get back together with me, I would have to hold back, to see that he understands what love is, to see that he's serious. And that would be just miserable. Waiting to see if he changed. What if he didn't? What if he never even steps up to the task? What if he never loves me again.

That's what I have to expect. That he will not be back. And I will be alone for a long time. And that somehow I will survive. And will be able to bear it when he falls in love with another. And marries another. And has a beautiful family with somebody. Somehow.

Or will I?

Of note:

I threw out all those spiral notebooks. They don't belong in my new home with music man.

the hardest I ever hit, the most I've ever loved

Music man is everything to me. I love him deeply. I'm excited to move in with him this week. But tonight he made me really upset.

Suicide. Is. Despicable.

Even if it's just a thought.

It was between the hours of midnight and 2 am. The two hours of a day when music man is occasionally taken with horrible moods. Most of our few arguments have taken place during this time. And this time he was talking about death. His death.

Naturally I was already upset.

Then he tells me how, even while we've been dating, he's considered suicide. I began weeping. Miserable, pathetic sounding sobs, gasps and sniffles. Words couldn't say how upset I was.

So I told him how that made me feel in the only way that could possibly conduct my truest feelings.

I slapped him harder than I've ever imagined slapping anyone. I slapped him so hard that he didn't even truly feel it for the first five minutes.

But he was angry right after. I'd never seen him so angry. I'd simply turned away and continued to cry. But after he got over the initial shock he grabbed me, sort of restrained me, and said something like "but you have to know what I mean" or "but you know how it feels" or something like that. And then he snapped out of it, and we started talking calmly for a few minutes.

And then apparently the true pain of the slap hit him, and we had to go inside and get him some ice. (we were outside when this happened)

Aaaand he didn't remember any of it previous to the pain, for a while. Go me. My slaps cause amnesia. Or maybe that was a black-out caused by his shear rage. But see, I slapped him because I love him, and, although I knew he didn't want to hear it so I didn't say, if he killed himself my world would end.

He has issues. Sure. Everybody does. I still love him. Even when he gets angry, my greatest fear is that he'll leave me. That would break my heart. I don't like the idea of living without him.

Even if he does leave me, I would never want him to leave me like that. I'd like to know that he's out there in the world somewhere. Living. Because his life is so beautiful to me.

Of note:

Also, bedbugs are the ultimate evil in this world. They're like mosquitos. But ninjas. That live in your bed. And come out at night to drink your blood. And leave irritating, itchy welts. They're what happens when a ninja goes vampire. Scary, isn't it?

Of note:

It's amazing that two months passed so quickly. I love my life.

And so life goes on

... In the best way possible.

I found several of my spiral notebooks the other night while looking through my things. They chronicle my search for love, beginning with a tall, nerdy man I met online whom just happened to go to the same small high school.

I made an account on okcupid.com on my twentieth birthday. I was tired of being alone. Not long after, I met someone that was a brother of a guy I had graduated with. I put all sorts of hopes and dreams into him, but to no avail.

He lead me on until he found something better. Not on purpose. He wasn't intentionally a jerk. He was just an idiot. There's lots of men like that. It's no surprise I ran into one right off the boat.

There was never even so much as a kiss. He hugged me once. And introduced me to several good bands and firefly. AND doctor horrible's sing along blog. So he served several good purposes.

After that came goth guy.

And then "good" guy.

And then goth guy again.

We know how that all went. Gad, men.

It was so weird to see them, all the stories with my hopes and dreams and different guys' names printed all over them. And there wasn't a single page about the most important one.

Music man is my world.

I accidentally moved in with him. I kept staying the night so I'd bring clothes and things. And then eventually I just stopped going home. I think that's as natural as it gets. And now we're going to make it official. We're going to rent a condo.

A place of our own where I don't have to share him with his room mates and I can keep a clean kitchen, and we can choose the furniture. And there's no toddler. And there's no tiny, yappy dog. And the irritating room mate that drinks too much won't talk his head off the minute he gets home. I'll kill it. Er. I'll move out. Into a condo all our own. yeahhh.

My parents are buying a condo. They're gonna rent it out to us. The living room is big enough to put a billiards table in. Aw, hell yeah. We gotta buy us a billiards table.

Of note:

Banana bread is remarkably less tasty without nuts.