Lost and found.

This afternoon my mum called. They're close to Lourdes (honestly, we don't believe in that kind of thing), in a camping we also went to when Bart was with us. I still remember the first night there, like it was yesterday. They have a wonderful sunparks alike swimming pool. The first night it was raining and we had to finiscch our dinner in our tent. That was cosy, and on the camping I also had my private adapted bathroom and I got the key of the bar at night, so I could always go there when something was wrong. The first night there was a karaoké and I was singing out loud, while Bart was so surprised and just watching me. Anyway, Ira got his first tooth, so I guess he'll be eating pieces of bread when he is back.
Today, I got a mail that I am nominated for some diarist award, but I don't think I'm with the finalists. But well, what do I care, for I write for myself and nobody else. I don't need an award, but it's fun to participate in such things, quite satisfying too.
Heavy day. I am lost without Ruben. Whatever he says, all he says is breaking my heart. So unbearable. I heard him crying and so, and though on one hand I could state it is satisfying to know him being sad for me too, on the other hand he is having a holiday - again - and he is together with his best friend. For me, if I never was with Ruben, I would never have believed that this was his best friend. I don't mean this in an offending way, but Ruben is so much more mature and he knows the path of feelings. Anyway, this will probably all sound a bit egocentric, but so be it, that's the way I feel and whatever people might say, my feelings won't be changed because of their statements whatsoever. But I no longer feel able to live without him by my side anymore. That in fact is what co-dependency is. I have absolutely nobody to talk to about these feelings and thoughts, but my 'talking' diary, not even a someone who wouldn't understand me (most probably that would be everybody), like Ruben has Thomas. And chatting is not talking, and moreover I don't like chatting a lot, I like it every now and then and I love chatting with Ruben when I can't see him, but I actually don't like chatting every day, I prefer mailing then because I can reply when I feel like it. I don't want to lock Ruben up in this life of misery, but I am doing that, or he chooses it. The thing I long for the most, is my death, and I do love him. But does that make living worth it? I'm sadder and more broken than Ruben only can imagine.

00:59 Gepost door 0 | Permalink | Commentaren (2) |  Facebook |


Nice... Cool site... Good luck ans see you

Gepost door: Sven | 04-08-03

Not Worth Your Time I don't really like chatting much, either. I agree, writing is so much better. Of course, i don't know why i'm telling you this. It's not like you care. It's not like i really want to connect with another human being. After all, you might even be dead by now for all i know. Yes, i picked up on your suicide theme. It's scattered throughout your blog. And if and when you finally do the deed, then everyone will say, "She told you so. It's on the Internet for anyone who might have cared enough to try to stop her." Well frankly, i believe that every person has the right to take her or his own life. And like you say, we're all gonna die anyway, right? I am curious, though... Do you really want to be dead? I mean, i know you want to kill yourself, but do you really want to be dead?-

Gepost door: Trent | 14-12-03

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