It's like a piece of flat iron ripping out a scream in my head as I lay here, attempting to lose myself in the books on my Kindle that I find in the cheap or free sections.
They don't cause the migraines. They are a symptom, as is is the dizzy-freefall feeling that's whirling me around in my head and though it feels bizarre, it also feels real. As I reel.
I'm missing Shawn incredibly. The sweet eyes staring at me in love with only the most honest patience. Deep brown eyes and a just right nose over a mouth meant for kissing me. And that speaks clearly and carefully and compassionately.
I'm missing Shawn's arms, scrawny but full of earnest desire to protect me from the worst of the world. This is a desire to return to a past version.
If we saved our personalities the way we do our drives what version of Shawn would I want to go back to? How far back would I have to go to save our relationship? The marriage I'm losing yet don't want to.
Definitely before Austin. At least, that's what I sorta think. After Long Beach? I have no real idea right now in the midst of my mental chaos.
I'll survive until the time for permanent pain release is possible. I can't screw it up ever again. Success is a must.
The tags say more than I do in this post. My scent sensitivity is stretched so I smell the scents of nights spent in Warwick. Of days on the 21 long before I ever met Shawn. Days with friends. Smells of clubs with Aba.
These tears just run themselves and I lay here and feel them running until they drop from my face. I'm here and tonight I suffer and tomorrow I still will - and I'll also pay off as much debt as possible.
I would love to drop back down to my pre-steroid weight.
Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.