2006-11-26 - 11:06 p.m.

I am in the process of copying this entire diary to disk. When all this technical crap started failing within this diary world I was like..."eh, I never had anything important to say anyway...what do I care if I lose it all?" But then you know, I found entries like this one, written just a week after Eric and I had our first date and I can't bare the thought of losing even a page of this diary. So...I am copying it all to disk. Then I will attempt to fix what is wrong. And if that fails...well then, I can let Toejam sleep.


My body and mind have betrayed me. At least, it appears that they have. The more I
think about it though, the more I realize that they are actually helping me. Yesterday
when I fell ill all I could do was say, ďFuck, fuck, fuck, itís not fucking fair...Ē over and
over again. Yesterday I was pissed off. Over these past three weeks that the BOY has
been in the States, I knew that I would have to set my body and mind on cope in order to
survive the whirlwind he creates. (And, when I say whirlwind I donít mean it sound as
though he is chaos, itís just that in MY life things are very precise, ordered and scheduled
so anyone that has any sense of spontaneity is considered a whirlwind in my eyes.) So, I
did that, I set myself on cope. I knew that I would only have to last three weeks before I
could settle back into my ďlifeĒ and routines. My body and mind however decided to shut
down on me at the most inopportune time. Yesterday. The BOY will only be here
another three days.

Having strep throat would and should have only interfered
with today and possibly tomorrow still leaving me with one day to kiss him as much as
possible before he heads back to France. BUT...the stress of being sick, the stress of not
sleeping well for two weeks, the stress of eating junk food, the stress of suddenly not
knowing what my life has in store for me, and the stress of being thrown off my schedule
has deposited FIVE, yes, FIVE, coldsores upon my lips which means that kissing that
BOY before he hops on his plane and heads 4,000 miles away from me is out of the
question. Not only that, but now I donít want to even SEE him before he leaves because I
am so horrifyingly embarrassed by my lips that I canít even peek my head out my front
door to check my mailbox. So, now you understand why I am pissed, why I think my
mind and body have betrayed and sabotaged me.

But...I am starting to now feel completely the opposite. I think my mind and body are
actually helping me. What would have happened if my body hadnít given out on me is
that today I would be at work, I would be tired, grouchy and anxious. Tonight the BOY
would have swooped in, put me in his car and driven me far away for the weekend. I
would have spent the weekend not sleeping well, not eating well and being constantly on
edge while meeting his friends and family. Mind you, I would have been happy with all
that, I want to spend time with him, I want to meet his family and friends...but I know that
after he left on Sunday I would fall from exhaustion only to emerge in depression. But, by
being sick and disfigured I am so desperate to be healthy and pretty again that I will
emerge from THIS abyss better than I was before. I can feel it brewing within me, a need
to escape my former life, a need to come out of this a different person. Had I remained
healthy and pretty for the remainder of his stay I would have found myself on Monday
wandering around in a daze of unhappiness. I would have been forced to resume my
normal routines in order to reestablish a sense of comfort within me. I would have ended
up exactly where I was before BOY. And I canít do that. I no longer want to live that life
of routine.

These past weeks that he has been here, these weeks when I have
grown accustomed to his voice and his touch I have felt quite alive, or at least an slight
inkling of being alive. I understand that there is far more out there than my life has
previously shown me. In these past weeks, even though I havenít been home much, even
though I have not slept much, I have written more than I had written total in the past year.
That in itself makes me want to not go back to my former life where even brushing my
teeth was scheduled. I want to let go, I want to step outside my borders now. And I
know that if I hadnít fallen ill I never would have done that, I would not have had this
rock bottom feeling from which to climb out of. I would have just been miserably
depressed instead of miserably depressed and desperate.

I am desperate right
now, desperate to get out of this sickness, desperate for these THINGS on my lips to
disappear, desperate to wake up and feel cleansed. I am finding that I wasnít quite ready
for him yet. I still have some things to do, some holes to climb out of, some life to put in
myself. Having this sickness is giving me a jumpstart, not being able to kiss him before he
leaves is perhaps saving me from falling too desperately in love with him at the wrong
time. This is saving me from something I am not equipped to handle quite yet. I know
that the next time I see him I will be ready, I will be new, cleansed, healthy and so freakin
full of life HE might not be able to handle MY whirlwind.

So, thank you sickness, thank you coldsores and thank you BOY for making me wake
up and smell the roses. Already I can feel my fingers clawing at the dense swamp I had
surrounded myself in, I can feel myself almost emerging. So watch out. Iíve woken up.

So that is all. Except...I made beer butter bread tonight (to accompany shocking pasta) and I am in love.


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