sorry for the absence in posting, but I have had one of the worst weeks. After returning from my ten day family vacation, I returned to find that my boyfriend of almost three months was no longer quite as enamored with me as when I left.
I had traveled 13 hours on Saturday to get from North Carolina back to California, where I was having a kick-back at my house (since my parents would not return until 2 days later). My boyfriend could not even pretend to be happy to see me, showing up late with the most disengaged look in his eyes; thus, I proceeded to drink more cranberry vodkas than was probably needed. The next day he was brusque on the phone and did not come over, though he said he would. He did not call me the following day, the first time since we had met. I called and texted him, and he would not respond. So, on the following Saturday, I drove the half-hour to his house and dropped off his things that I had acquired: a ring, 3 DVDs, a shirt, and a jacket that he had purchased for me, with my nickname written on it. So, without ever speaking about it, we had broken up.
The only thing to have come out of this whole week was that my sweet and supportive cousin made cupcakes with me :) I took some photos, but blogger has been stupid and is not letting me post them; when I regain those capabilities, I plan on posting those, as well as some photos from my vacation.
I hope everyone had a better week than I did, and that a better week is in store for all of us.
It was in moments like this that she missed him. In the quiet times, when she sat alone, were the times when she wished the most that he was only a phone call away. She didn't miss the cold stare of his disengaged eyes, or the swelling insecurity that seemed to strangle her in those last days; but she missed the tone of his voice over the tiny speaker when they were apart, his hand over hers when they were together.
What lingered even more, however, was the hurt and resentment which settled over her memories like a fine layer of dust. She could no longer even be certain of those fleeting, happy moments; she couldn't be sure how far is his lies had infiltrated into his actions, words, kisses.
Everything seemed like a lie now, and she missed when he was everything. She missed when he was anything...
Today I went hiking with my family to a waterfall. Near it there is a wooden platform where you can stand above the river below, and scrawled in black sharpie along a board there was this:
