She spent the night. I wake up and she’s gone because she had to open at her job. There’s a note written into my notepad on the desk…
“Robert. I love you. I love you very very much. You can’t leave me. I need to be with you. I don’t want to be with anyone else at all. This is my last plea for you to stay with me. I just want to be with you baby, so much. You’re my world. Don’t let me go. You’re the love of my life remember?
Love you dearly,
Margot”
All day shift at China Wok.
Breakfast: Glazed Pastry and Milk from Kroger.
Plums and Orange Juice.
HOT>
My heart felt heavy after reading her note. The words hit hard. I said these very same things back in February when she wanted to break up. I still feel these things. I reciprocate. But I’m not as determined because something inside is pushing me away. Maybe it’s my gut, or maybe it’s God. This is the hardest part…
Margot’s texting me, “People in love should be together. End of story.”
True. But it’s not that simple.
Lunch: Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.
Chillin’ with Darren and Anthony for a bit—they just downloaded some British sitcom from the 80’s called The Young Ones.
Delivering an order on 22nd street off Barberton. As I’m driving down the street, out of nowhere a dog runs directly in front of my car. I slam on the brakes—the sound of rubber skidding the asphalt. It was like a movie scene in that I just barely missed him by a few inches. The dog topples away shaking. The owner of the dog darts out to reprimand me for driving so fast and this and that. I give him a sincere apology and explain I was in a hurry because I’m delivering…He yells at me as if I’m solely responsible for the almost accident, “You’re a lucky mother fucker!” I bite me tongue. Are you serious? I wanted to say, Your dog is fucking lucky! This was just pure accident—both at fault. He wasn’t keeping track of his dog. And I was going a little too fast. Don’t speak to me with the presumption that I’m ignorant to what just happened. Maybe it was my sleeveless black Yellow Second shirt and cut off shorts or my 95’ station wagon that misled him into believing I was some hoodlum teenager. I wonder what his reaction would be if I were a 40-year-old yuppie driving a BMW…would he have been more respectful? Would he have been more forgiving?
There’s an intense feeling of claustrophobia in doing this kind of work, constantly moving behind the wheel—cars and pedestrians surrounding me like an army…I’m getting sick of it all.
Nothing relieves me from a hard day’s work like an ice cream cone from Chic-fil-A.
Finally…OVER.
Sipping on an Amber Wing Walker in Darren’s room with Kelly Suddeth and Anthony. Recapping my dog incident today—Darren exclaims that I could’ve reminded that guy of the Virginia leash laws…
Making dinner for the family: Penne Pasta in Tomato & Basil Sauce with Peppers and Onions. Fresh Baked Poppy Seed Bread from Kelly.
Darren makes me an Old Fashioned Cocktail to top off our dinner.
An extensive friend chat with Raven on the phone—insightful—enlightenment—venting…
Light Gatherers and Light Bringers…
Our nanny, Lauren, was sick last night and hasn’t been home in a few days either; therefore things have been dirty around here, mainly a huge pile up of dishes in the kitchen stacked to the heavens. I take the liberty of doing them myself. And it sure has been a long time since I’ve done dishes like this. I forgot how therapeutic it was…
I’ve been really disappointed in watermelons lately and can’t seem to find a good one. So I’ve been placing the unsatisfactory halves on the back porch and outside the front door as decoration. They make good ashtrays…
Anthony (an approximate quote): “You know that feeling you get after finishing a book…reading that last page, and like you realize that everyone around you is picking their nose or doing something else, and you can’t share that experience you just had…”
…“Happiness is only real when shared.”---Chris McCandless
Me: “Life is better when shared. That’s what I get out of that.”
Small bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
Sleep 5 a.m.
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