Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Tomorrow night, about 3 minutes to midnight marks 2 months. And it’s been a great two months – though it feels like it’s been a lot longer.

I woke at about 3am beside him last night in tears. Dreams of my mom, or rather of my mom being dead and me so very helpless without her woke me. I was in an antique store with this stupid blue cat toy in my arms. It was something like those Russian dolls that are just cases of smaller doll after smaller doll inside. I wanted it so very bad, and I knew that if my mother were alive she’d have bought it. But as I hugged it this woman walked by and told me she was going to buy it. I burst into tears, telling her how badly I wanted it and that I couldn’t afford to buy it. I woke, crying my little eyes out.

I miss her. I wish I could have just one dream of her being alive and healthy… Or even just happy, if she has to be dead.

It’s ten to 9am. I’ve dropped Lars off at work, put a phone call in to my son; he’s off to Thailand on the 10th of this month… If only his fucking dad would send him here instead…

Anyway, as soon as my Ipod charges I’m heading out to the gym. That always makes me feel better. My father comes home tonight. I think I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Squamish, though I’ve not yet fully decided. I’ll miss Lars and I’m not looking forward to leaving for that reason alone. Otherwise, I’m growing tired of this rock… My father’s ok with Lars being here while I’m gone. I’m ok with the two of them getting to know each other in my absence – hell he let me meet his mother and sister (bless them) for the first time without him.

Talking with him about the tattoo, we’ve thrown a few more ideas in there. Lars likes the idea of a voodoo doll. I like the idea of a pin-up doll – I mean a doll, literally pinned up to my back – bloody limbs and all. But then, I’m twisted that way.

We’ll see what we decide on when I’m back. In the meantime, I need to get the hell out of here. The gym is calling.

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No matter where I am, I'm lost and learning to like it. I'm a living contradiction, and the best lies I tell are the ones I tell myself.
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