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June
23
Why
am I such a loser? I am so infinitely gifted, selfless, generous
and giving. I deserve a man who will cherish and protect me while
at the same time allowing me my creative freedom and aid me in my
quest for a better world.
I thought
Simon was that guy. I just can't stop thinking about him. My pride
wants to call him back and tell him that I didn't mean what I said
when I told him I was nothing without him,to tell him that I'd taken
some Claritin with a glass of wine and wasn't thinking clearly but
the other part of me wants to beg and plead some more.
I just
can't win, I am heartbroken.
And
alone.
June
25
To
Simon
My
love is gone, gone gone
He
ordered won ton ton
Chop,
chop, chop it's done.
White
linen, beige food the mark of indecision spills onto the menu
I
stand marooned in column A while there he is in column "B"
All
you can eat, yet I go hungry as I scream cheese and he sucks noodles.
The
clock that commands I drink Pepsi counts down the last minutes
of our love while the waiter checks his pockets.
The
exit leads to nowhere and the floor is beneath me.
At
one point I envied the ducks hanging upside down in the window
At
least they knew where they stood.
I
am a moo goo gai pan-handler of love
Forgive
me MSG-sus I know not what I've done.
I cried
after I wrote that.
June
26
I put
the poem in Simon's mailbox this morning. It was the only time that
I've ever hoped not to see him.
He
needs to read this so that he will understand how great our love
was, to see that he can't just throw it away. He needs time for
it to sink in. If I was to see him in person it would force him
to make a split-second decision and you just can't do that. You
cannot put a time limit on someone else's feelings so I wrote on
it that he has to call me tomorrow night.
June
27
I thought
this day would never end. I was really absent minded at work and
I think my mother is getting a little worried, which is good.
She
even asked me if I wanted a Midol which she usually only does if
I'm freaking. I just shook my head sadly and said "that's not
it."
My
wan tone seemed to worry her more so I kept it up.
6:00
It's
been so hard not to cry. I picture Simon reading the poem and in
some visions he starts to cry himself and in another he hangs his
head and kisses the paper.
I will
be reserved, but kindly reserved. I don't want to be too gushy or
emotional because I think we've been through too much all ready.
We have the rest of our lives to get emotional.
I
won't be a yuck a minute whacka-fest but I will try to inject some
humour. Sort of my way of saying, "I love you, let's get past
this and move on."
8:00
I didn't
specify a time but usually if you say "call me tomorrow night"
you mean about 7-8 o'clock. My phone is still working, I checked
it.
9:00
Sometimes
though, when you say evening you can mean right up until 11:00.
It's only when it goes after midnight really, that it stops being
evening.
10:00
That
idiot Jenny just called and I almost had a stroke. I answered with
a very soft "hello" and she started laughing. I told her
to get off the phone immediately that it was life or death and I'd
call her back.
1:00
I can't
believe it, I just can't believe it. What kind of luck do I have?
It just figures that Jenny would phone exactly at the same time
as Simon.
At
least that's what must've happened because I haven't heard from
him.
He
might try to call back so I'll give it another couple of hours.
If I don't hear from him I'll call him tomorrow night.
I am
so mad at her!
Past
Entries of Jenna's Diary
©2000-2001 S.Grehan
Thanks
to Wynn Howes and Gord Oxley for their contributions to "To
Simon".
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