The sorting/packing is leading to some tense exchanges. So, I took a break and strolled down the street with a travel mug of beer to a computer I could borrow. It's not too bad, though. I've recently found out that I can still talk to him, so for now, it looks like I still have my best friend.

But, there are some things I can't talk to him about, even though he insists that it's okay. My lips move, but the sound doesn't come out. I could just come out with it here. That's what pistolwhip evolved into over the years; a place for me to honestly (and publicly) express the things that cause damage when kept in and that I can't talk to anyone about. But there's that nasty word "publicly". Even though I know it's not many people reading it.

I've kept this in far too long. But a giant part of me wants to forget it. Or at least to wait two weeks until I'm safe on another continent doing what I love.

I can't believe it's been almost six months. I've always read the pssts. I've always hoped that one day, there'd be something about me. I'm not sure how many times I've brought it up as the Valentine's issues approached. Finally, it happened. But I wouldn't allow myself to believe it, at first. Lots of people could consider themselves ugly ducklings. I tried to test my suspicions, but at the same time, I was trying to discourage it. I'm married. Our first anniversary was mere weeks away. After my test, the next week, the psst was more specific. Fuck. What was I supposed to do? My anniversary was now a week away and now I'm supposed to ponder something that I've tried to run from, and now seemed mutual?

So, I did the only thing I could respect. I tried again to test and discourage it, and I talked to my husband.

Fast forward through an awkward Dog Day tour and I'm home, wondering what the fuck. I did many things to try to get whoever to talk to me for real. I was ready to see what was up. But, I realized I needed to take control of my own life, and instead of waiting, I played games* and talked to my husband again.

Finally, I decided I just wanted to fucking know, so I asked. the following anonymous conversation took place:

here's the thing
Someone seemingly referenced and quoted things I'd said in a place not many people visit. I know it could be coincidence, but somehow that seems unlikely. It was quite awhile ago now, but I still wonder know what your intentions were.

Was it funny to you?
Were you trying to be mean?

the thing is
there are no coincidences. not funny. not mean. just sad really... for reasons you will never understand. wake up sweetheart.

another thing
actually, I think I do understand or at least relate

Phantasmagoria
Maybe it's all a dream within a dream?

I'm sure you're right
but in that case, leave me where I am. I'm only sleeping.

so many things
riiiiight. you totally get it.

maybe I don't get it
but I won't if you don't bother trying to explain.

Do you think you know where I'm coming from? Why do you think I don't get it?

ps
I didn't claim to totally get it.

That should have made it clear to me that you weren't interested in answering my questions, helping me understand, or most importantly, talking to me for real. But, it didn't stop me from being pathetic a little while longer. Now I'm moving forward having accepted that a) it was, in fact, a mean joke and/or b) someone's a bigger coward than I am. At least I tried to open dialogue.

* I meant the things I said, but I got some hilarious replies and I replied to things I knew had nothing to do with me. So, I played games with strangers, yes, but I didn't take it too far. I'm not cruel.

I know I'll regret this post, but I'm already a laughing stock. It feels good to get off my chest. I deserve everything I get.

Three years ago, I wrote some about the first Hold tour.