Today is always tricky, always hard lately and I don't know why I can't seem to shake it all off. My head's been a mess the past couple days, weeks - - and I feel like I should say sorry for starting off a post this way.
But today this is going to be more of a diary.
Today I thought about my fingers. I compulsively pick at them; I can't hold a pen correctly because the nail bed on my right thumb feels sore from where I've bothered myself too much. My pinky is starting to bother me, too, but it's not so useful as a thumb so it isn't too much trouble. But either way, I don't want it that way.
And I remembered Tim, and how we used to talk about getting me gloves, because nothing else really seemed to work. And I know, and I'm sure he knew, that a girl wearing gloves around is odd and out of the ordinary - - would probably make me feel self conscious and maybe even a little ashamed (perhaps he didn't know about that, or I wouldn't have) - - but he would talk about getting lacey ones, or Antique-ish ones, just so at least I could feel pretty about it.
It's days like that, thoughts like that, guilts like that, that make me wish I could be x years younger to keep that kind of goodness and kindness and lightness that seems to have slipped out of my life. Where do you find another love like that?
I'm beginning to think that maybe I do sometimes run off and ruin good things, maybe all I can do about it is scream and tear it all down from the inside. I don't know what I can do with myself.
And that's all I've got. Love, Lizzie. x
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