I have been trying to be strong. I have been trying so hard to not plead and beg with the world to give me Dave back. But it’s all I want. It’s all I want every second of every day. I haven’t pleaded because I know it will do no good. I haven’t pleaded because it’s my last chance to bargain with life and I’m saving it. I know that makes me pathetic. I know that makes me a dreamer. But Dave was a dreamer. And there’s nothing wrong with dreaming. I dream all the time, and lately I involuntarily dream about a life I cannot have. So I don’t care if it makes me pathetic. I want to jump up and down like a child and demand my boyfriend be put back just the way he was. Maybe if I cry loud enough. Maybe if I make enough of a scene. Maybe if I act like I’m five and throw a tantrum someone will fix this for me and give me what I want. I try. I really do try to be strong, but some days I just want this to be over already. Some days I want this to not be my life.
I can’t even think yet about the spiritual side. I can’t picture what Dave would do if the roles were reversed. I can’t even bring myself to imagine what our life would be like if he made it home. I want to so bad, but something in my head tells me to stop – I’ve built some kind of mental wall, some sort of protection device because I have a feeling thinking about these things will propel me straight into the darkness. I don’t think about it. I don’t want to think about marrying Dave on the beach and all the little details and all the feelings I would have. I don’t want to think about what our mornings would be like and who would make the coffee and what we would eat and how we would coordinate our movements in such a small space. I don’t want to think about how our days would go. I don’t want to, but I also can’t. It hurts. It chokes me. It makes my eyes well-up just thinking about thinking about it. It’s a life I don’t get to have. It’s torture. It’s all just fucked.
I find myself in a new life I could never have predicted. I have been thrown here by the universe, and I don’t even consider if I like it or not at times. I just try to survive it. I know I hate a lot about it. But there are some things that remain the same and yet, I am not the same, so they’re meanings have changed. In some cases I don’t know what things mean. In some cases, I don’t know what I think or feel. I can sometimes hear my old voice in my head, but that’s only for some small thoughts that don’t really have anything to do with anything. Mostly I hear a new me – a strong me, but a sad me. I miss so much about Dave. I know I miss the life we don’t get to have together. Mostly, I long for that. But mostly, I miss the electricity Dave and I shared. Our connection was so deep, so very deep and strong that it blew me away. I miss his touch. I miss his voice. I miss his eyes, his smile and his shape. Dave. I miss my Dave.