Broken Bella Donna











{May 15, 2013}   I keep wanting to blog… about anything but

I keep wanting to blog… about anything but you… just for the sake of allowing some of the pressure building up in my brain to come out. I have so much more rattling around in this vague little blonde head of mine than what is represented on here – but for some reason when I’m here, I just want to wank on about all the shit I can’t talk about IRL, either because the people I talk to know you, and don’t know the situation, or because the people I could talk to don’t know you and don’t know the situation and it’s just too unbelievable for me to explain.

So it becomes a very miniscule part of my life, what is said on this blog, and made to look so much bigger than what it perhaps is – usually. Sometimes it really is that big.

Hmm.

You have popped onto chat five times tonight, first time you’ve done that since when we were close, and at least one of those times you were on for quite a few minutes. Are you checking to see if I left you a message? Are you doing something else? Is your phone really doing what you claim it does, and signing you in when you’re not there? Who knows. What I do know is I feel no urge to message you tonight, no need to chase you and try to touch base, to find you, to read your words (usually I’d have said ‘hear your voice’ but on the medium that is the internet… no).

Part of me is happy because I feel like I’ve moved on. Another part of me is rebelling against this concept because I don’t WANT to. I don’t want to lose our connection. I want to still want to be close, like we were. Like I think we can be again when things simmer down. Otherwise we’re going to drift apart and just be associates, and I hate that idea, but it’s what I do. It’s what I strongly suspect you do.

And you just logged on for a chat. And so far it seems like we might even talk ‘normally’ instead of this frosty shit you’ve been giving me on the rare occasion we’ve traded words in the last three weeks.

Wish me luck.

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