confessions of a countdown

confession: i wanted to start drinking at 10:30am. i’m making myself wait until 12:30pm.

confession: c tried to intervene, inviting me to meet her for tea at noon. i declined. but i love her more for trying.

confession: before the drinking commences, i went to the grocery store to buy milk, toilet paper, fudge pops, and bananas. i figure i’ve been responsible enough for today.

confession: holy mary mother of hey-zeus, i miss my ex-wife. sunday was her first anniversary with the father of her (formerly our) kiddos. i initiated a cordial text message exchange. today i almost wore the necklace i had bought her for the last anniversary we didn’t reach. i put the necklace on. i took the necklace off. that’s when i decided i was drinking today.

confession: i could choose not to drink today. i could write my heart out instead. but i won’t.

confession: when i left home to go to the grocery store, i put buddhist chiming bells on the stereo, hoping that the spiritual vibrations would shift me when i returned. i forgot i had left the music on (since i was trying to trick myself out of drinking later). i opened the door with my groceries and walked into my living room mimicking a buddhist temple. i could have let the trick work. i could have shifted. after putting away the groceries, i could have laid myself along the floor in corpse position and let the bells vibrate through my cells. instead, i changed the music. i’m listening to angry love songs and counting the minutes until 12:30pm.

confession: i didn’t know the years she and i sat in my parked car drinking tequila from a flask before walking into midnight rodeo to dance with university athletes ten years younger than us would be the best years of my life. i knew i was happier than i’d ever been. i thought we had a lifetime of happiness ahead of us. maybe we do, just not together. maybe when we are living the best years we can never know they are the best years because we naively assume that they will last or get even better. those years have been over for a long time. those years were followed by years of fear. we’re both still scared, but the fears are felt alone instead of shared.

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About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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