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April 28th 2009

5:00 a.m. :: 2009-05-01

Jeremy,
I can't even put decent words to what a fool I've been. All I can say is that I'm a fool. I keep repeating it, like it's my new mantra or something.
I saw a centipede last night in my sink. I have never seen a centipede in my sink before, not once. It was the prelude to a very unhappy night. I don't have appropriate words for how inappropriate Will was either. Let's just say... I punched him in the face; twice. I meant for blood, but I fell short.
And again, I feel like a fool.
The nausea started Sunday, and it hasn't stopped since. Hanging out with Will didn't help it at all; at times it even made it worse. I hate to say it, but it just would have been better to be alone last night. And driving out there is a bitch.
When I mentioned the nausea to my mom, she said, �Are you pregnant?� I said �no� defensively, but I'm worried that I am. What to do? I don't want anyone to know. Especially not my mom. Not unless I was planning on keeping it... And... And...
Perhaps I'm a bigger fool than I thought � maybe I had it right the first time with you. That is, that the communication is what's important. And you know what? I could totally be loyal to you. All this foolishness is stemming from my disappointment with Corvier.
The depression, the lack of motivation, the crying, the poor judgment calls I've been making... The way I've been acting. It's just all a bunch of left over emotion from the loss of the dreams I had with Corvier.
I've thought a lot about how �nice� it would be to go to Chicago and be with Travanti. And you know what? That's just stupid. Why would I want to do that? Escape. The easy way out. To have someone I find drop-dead sexy in my bed? Over having good conversation? Over having someone adaptable, teachable... Over you? I'm...
But it made so much sense Sunday. She can accept your faults... And I can't? Is that how shallow I am? That's just disgusting. She's willing to work... And what? I'm not? What the hell? She wants to suck your dick... And, what? I find it repulsive? No, actually I don't. That's just laziness.
Why would I give up someone who I know would be a good father? Why the hell would I do that? I think I'm going fucking crazy. I mean, that's all I've been looking for. That's been the number one thing I've wanted in a guy � and now what am I looking for? Money? Sex? This is why I left Corvier in the first place! This is insane, insane, insane and stupid!
But I can't just say, �Oh, come back, I'm a fool.� What a stupid sob story that is like. Janet would hate me forever. My parents and brother would dislike my constant mind changing and probably impose something on me, I don't know what. And it's not like I expect me saying �I'm a fool� is going to make me more attractive.
I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing. I mean, you were crying on the floor over her. She was at home crying over you. And what was I doing? I was crying over Corvier. So it seemed right. I felt like that was all the information I needed at that moment to make the decision to call her... Gods. I don't know what has gotten into me!
I don't even know if I want to give this to you. I mean, I've been thinking about this all day. This morning I awoke, and was so displeased with finding Will there. It was...
I love you Jeremy. I don't just love you as a good friend. I could never love you so little. My grief has caused me much error. And for a short while I believed you were another of my errors.
I can't imagine... Going to the clinic by myself... Waiting all day again, by myself, getting an abortion of a baby... Gods, let's just pray I'm wrong to think I may be pregnant. I mean, the nausea did start at the same time as us separating. Clearly, that's the cause of it... Right?
I was healing. Slowly I was. I was reading again. I was starting to watch some of my shows again. I was enjoying time out and about. Now everything is even more dreary then when I first left Corvier in the first place. I feel my hope just sliding away...
Driving home I had to imagine how badly my poor mother would take it, in the recovery of the hospital to hear that I'd gone and killed myself in a car accident to keep my hands steady. I hate admitting that. I hate being so fucking... driven by all the damn wrong things!
When I called you, I was shaking. The short minutes on the phone just hurt more as I thought about how useless telling you these things tomorrow would be. What good will my pain do you? I did this to make you happy. Why can't I find the joy in that? I guess because it's not really me, it's her, and I hate that. I hate thinking that I'm really surrendering just like that. That I could just lay down my sword and leave the battle field when she is still there.
When my mother was telling me about this stuff (that fills in cracks in walls and floors) that she wanted me to buy and/or find and use in certain areas on the house while she was in the hospital, the very first thing that came to mind was sealing off the hatch into the attic in preparation for there being a ladder there for your friends.
The last thing I want to do right now is log into okcupid. And yet, I can't think of anything else to do with myself. I wanted to make guacamole, and yet, I can't. For myself? Alone? To just eat in front of my computer in this room while being sent IM messages? Fuck! I can't...
You don't understand I think � I mean to say... I do believe handing you back to Janet a mistake. I knew it... I knew it at the time on some level, but... I felt like I had to. I wanted to make things right. Things will just never be right for me.
People lie. Things don't get better. People steal. Things don't get better. People leave. Things don't get better. People gossip. Things don't get better. People hurt. Things get worse.
I want to hold you so bad. There is just nothing... Nothing. No comfort in anything at all. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing important enough to work for.
I was actually listening to music... Now... Now I can't again. That hurts more than I'd have ever expected it to. It felt so good to listen to music with you. It felt so good to watch you play the Tower placing game, and WiiFit... It was adorable to see you playing magic with Chuck, and even the soccer game...
I'm so sorry. I'm can't be any sorrier. This is like the first time all over again. I can't believe it, but it is. The endless steam of tears, the endless stream of babbling writing only checked by my need to wipe my eyes, the uncertainty, the fear, the bone-wrenching chest pain, the unsettling and unnerving constant nausea, the desperation that can't even be comforted, can't even be soothed, much less cured.
And I can't even talk to my mother. I can't do anything, anything. I feel so damn lame. I wouldn't even expect you to want this babbling, crying fool that I am.
My whole body and soul is just screaming �come back, come back, come back� over and over again. And I think to myself, �he doesn't want me, he doesn't want this. I'm not right. I'm not well.�
I see walls everywhere, and no bridges.
But if I am pregnant... What I want... I'd do anything. I mean � to keep it. Why not? Why not chase after the farm, the children and you? Why not work for it? It can be sweet. It can be beautiful. What am I? Some craven fool who throws away the fruit after a single sniff? Perhaps it's just been unripe. Perhaps I've been unripe and bitter.
I feel foolish yet again. Maybe I won't even feel this way a month from now... And yet... It was beautiful to think about a month ago. It was beautiful to think about six months ago. It's beautiful to think about now. I wanted you back badly when I was fifteen. I felt like I was supposed to chose you over Corvier when I was seventeen. I felt saved by you this past March. I was happy at first � extremely happy. What changed?
My stupid pushing you into a threesome. I think that's all it was. I was so heartsick after that. Bitter. And then I wanted my Corvier back desperately because he wanted me, and only me. I missed that suddenly -- violently. Now I understand. It makes sense now.
Ugh, I should have been writing. I've been writing barely an entry a week and it's no wonder my brain is a scramble. I'm so slow. I didn't even see that until I just now wrote it. It actually makes me feel a lot better to understand it.
Now, in the words of a calm Raederle who isn't crying her eye balls out... I want you back. And I'm sorry. And I know that everyone will disapprove, but I'm willing to give this another shot. A much more real shot. No more okcupid. No dates. No trips. No running away. No chasing after Corvier. No complaining about how you're not this or that. No wining about your friends.
And, better than that, I want to show you the real me. The person that I am at my prime, at my peak. I've been grieving, and grieving and grieving. I want to show you spontaneous, happy, driven Raederle. I want to show you my smiles and ambition. I'm willing to get a job. I'm willing to go job hunting with you. I'll get up in the morning without being dragged. And I swear these aren't a bunch of empty promises.
I'm not making this up. This isn't me crying out because I'm lonely, although I am lonely and I am crying out to you. This is really my genuine desire. I want to make you the best man you can be, and in order to do that, I will be the best woman I can be.
I've been unfair, and selfish, and I can't apologize enough. I don't expect you to come running back just because I wrote this letter, but... I obviously had to let you know how I feel. It feels good just to have gotten this on paper. Whatever you do, don't let Janet see this, tear it up if you have to.
Regardless of whether or not you take all of what I'm saying seriously, and regardless of whether or not you decide to give me a final shot, just know I want what's best for you, and I'm willing to go well out of my way to make things happen for you. All you need to do is ask.
~With love and hope,
Raederle Phoenix

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