Need to write

I wish I knew what to type.  I just have this need to write. But nothing worthwhile to say.  I fell in the doctor’s office — that was a little embarrassing. I was sitting on one of those rolling chairs and it rolled out from under me and I fell on my upper back.  Now I probably need to go to the chiropractor.  Also, have a cavity and need the dentist.  WHEN?  When is there time to do all this?  Plus I hate driving so much.  Our waitress at lunch had gorgeous earrings.  Long chains, very delicate, bridged together.  Hard to describe.  I am going to look for some like them.  I am bummed out, I have to admit, having heard nothing from my father-figure friend, nor my cousin.  BLAH. I think I will write a letter not to send to W.  I do miss him.  He had some qualities of a very good friend.  I miss his hissy way of laughing.  Seeing his blue eyes light up.  Talking about our mutual love of writing, and what we’d just sent off to a contest in poetry or fiction.  Or essay.  W wrote a LOT of essays because he believed he had the answer to everything.  He WAS very intelligent, true.  But he had that one fatal flaw.  If he wasn’t trying to touch me or kiss me (which I forbid, except on the cheek) he was talking dirty on the phone, which I also forbid but he would do it again the next time.  Now I am free of him, and I know it’s good.  But I do miss the “good” side of W.  Almost as much as I hate the crazy, demented side of him.  So many years of friendship!  Gave him a Russell Stover box of candy for Christmas and he called the next day and said, “Something’s wrong with this candy you gave me—the box is half-empty!”  I was taken aback for a split second, and then realized he had eaten them himself.  He had a funny sense of humor.  I hear myself talking about him in past tense.  That’s why I’m sad today.  He kicked me out of his life, and he’s gone for good.  And it IS for good, in both senses of the word.  But I miss that crazy old man.  He made an effort to be a Dad to me, because I never had one.  But then he would ruin it by coming on to me.  What a mess.  There is no question, as time goes by, I miss him.  It’s like he has died.  No communication whatsoever.  But it’s for the best.  My priest at our church then told me he had had several complaints about W after his wife died.  Getting fresh with women, various ones.  He told me “you have to be very stern with W.”  Well, I DID.  He just ran over me, anyway.  And finally got mad  and shut me out altogether.  W, rip. (sigh)  I guess you are gone for good.  I will not  try to change that.  You never wanted me to phone you again, so I won’t.  It’s over, dead, finished, but I will miss the good side of you.  The gardenias you picked and gave to me….your interest in my writing….your laughter that sounded like a snake (smile).   Oh well.

3 thoughts on “Need to write”

  1. I think this is the beauty of journals, you can talk just to talk! Let it all out. Speaking of, I am do for a cleaning at my dentist! Where is the time is right! I hope your uneasy feeling of losing your friend heals soon. Change is odd isn’t it? Try to embrace the good things and carry the memories with you. We learn something from everyone that comes through our lives. Chin up buttercup (:

  2. RD, I’m so sorry about your Dad’s illness. That must be so depressing for you, sweet girl. Thank God for Harry to make you smile (sometimes.) Hugs to you!

  3. I actually started a journal once by writing “blah, blah, blah…..” because I knew I needed to write but didn’t know what to write. So I started it that way and it continued from there. No matter what you write, it’s always therapeutic. Hugs to you Grace!

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