Seattle • November 24, 1992 • فيزا
Good evening, beloved, spare book of my secrets. Sorry if I call you spare, but I promise I don't mean a bad thing or anything detrimental to you when I say that. I simply mean that my main diary, the part one of my crazy fucking life here in Seattle, is in my ex boyfriend's full belonging... and that lowkey makes me wanna cry in my corner of shame because I know he must've dug deeper into it over the last few days. Or at least so I think he did today, because I've heard from him a few hours ago(we're back at calling eachother multiple times a day like the good ole days, yay) and he couldn't stop teasing me over some ridiculous stuff that was written on it, as his usual. It was funny, but pretty fucking embarrassing... and that's the reason why I'm trying to procrastinate time, instead of calling him now that I'm finally back home from my gruelling day of working and studying. Hearing from him would be the only way to finish this day on a positive note and chill a bit... but what if he keeps teasing me about my writings for his own amusement, instead of giving me five minutes of peace of mind and peaceful company that I'd so deserve?
Eeek. I suppose I'll get back to him later this evening. I miss him loads, I still haven't been able to hop on my saddle and join him on the road as I promised I would've, because life is being one hell of a chaotic bitch as of lately... and until next week and further notice, I'll have to stick to calling him whenever I have some time off the grind as I just can't move from Seattle. I told him that when we talked this morning, he peacefully understood it, he even told me that he's proud of me for snatching good grades and working on more sets than my frail body could humanly withstand ... so, slay. This means that we're both becoming more patient, more tolerant and open to bargaining with each other these days, and I love that for us. We've done some mutual growing up ever since our last crash, he's learned to control his impulsivity and his temper, I've learned to be less afraid of telling him the truth as it is... and honestly, I think that after that leap forward, we're on the best possible path to get back together. We just have to wait for the first chance to catch up, and we're all settled.
Optimism is not my strongest suit, and you, beloved spare book of my secrets, know it just as well as my old book of my secrets. But it's hard not to be optimistic, now that I'm talking again to the love of my life... and not only he wishes me a good morning and a good night everyday, he also never fails to make me feel like I'm the treasured, beloved sunshine of his love. This morning he called me 'sunshine' for the first time since the day I left him in Madison and ran away... and gaaaah. Saying that I'm still thinking about it and blushing at the sole thought in itself would be a pretty fucking big understatement. He also did tell me that I'm 'all that shit and a bag of chips', he called me 'baby' after that... but not being quite sure what 'all that shit and a bag of chips' means, as I'm not a native English speaker and I don't happen to be fluent in slang, I'll take it with a grain of salt. Actually, with just as much salt as there's in chips, because I just don't know shit. I'll look up the meaning of that sentence tomorrow morning, when I'll have more clarity of mind... and until then, I'll just frown because I simply wish I could eat chips. And hug my babe too. Or hug my babe while eating chips in bed with him... I just don't fucking know.
Anyways, back on the rightful track, 'cause I've got time to procrastinate, but not to waste. I know I should call Sean now, perhaps tell him that he's my personal sunshine too, as he's brightened up my life ever since stepping back into it... but I'm aware that he wouldn't easily let me tell him that, I know that he'd only sell himself short and crack disrespectful jokes about himself to make me laugh... so, quick recap of my very, very eventful weekend, instead? Because I've been so busy I haven't found a chance to write over the last couple days? That while I walk to the kitchen and make myself some very deserved dinner, as the last time I've deigned myself to sit down and have a meal was ... 24 hours ago? And food is much more of a priority than a man is, especially when you're a skinny as hell, starved to death chick who happens to be more romantic than one should be fucking allowed to be in the first place?
