I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself to hold on to these moments as they pass.

i'm getting better, i have to tell myself that, i have to remind myself that i'm recovering, and that some day, the stinging in my stomach will be gone and my black heart will be mended. some day. it's just hard. it's the little things that get me. it usually happens when i'm driving. the little things come back to haunt me, things she said, looks she gave, the way she'd bite my ear a little too hard, the way we'd drive together and sing along to the radio, the way we would talk about wether our kids would have calcium deposits on their teeth like both of us do. all of it. it kills me.

you don't tell a person "i don't ever want anything else" and then run away (not even) a week later.

fuck, even eddie money reminds me of her.

burned in my brain, our last sentences exchanged (on a cell phone, me still in her driveway):

him: just remember, i love you eternally. . .
(long pause)
her: i love you too, but i just can't . . .
(i hang up)

i'm getting better though. i'm trying not to dwell on it, i'm far to busy for that. i'm maintaining my sanity but losing weight. things will get better. it's times like this when i laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. what i miss the most these days: falling asleep, tangled in her arms. whatever.

i should sleep. love to all.