but I'm trying to see if I can write every day for a month.
But I don't have much to say.
I had a visit yesterday... it was sort of announced that a visit was imminent. And then there was traffic but the visit happened anyway... I expected the visit not to happen.
It was weird. I wanted to ask a million questions, but I knew that the answer I got would be bullshit, and I knew the answer anyway.
Comfort... quiet... someone who understood pain. That's all there was... that was the only answer to the million questions. I kept my distance, pretty much. There will never be another Black August. But the company was nice. About 5 hours later the visit was over, and silence returned.
One small remnant of the visit was asked to be kept: "So this means you're coming back?"
"This summer, or next summer?" but I don't really remember the answer. If I were a betting bitch I'd bet once in a few weeks. And then next summer. But this isn't what I want. Not what I want to feel.
Today, the Cricket had some major upheaval. The kind of thing that begins to define you shape you, make you wonder what you stand for. It was a looooong day for him, and I heard from him throughout the day. It was the most I've heard from him in a while. I feel for him; there but for the grace of God--and UN--go I. I hope he'll be alright... in the end I know he will. I knew that he hadn't really suffered yet, and now he will. It sucks, but it's necessary. It also means that he'll be off on his own journey and it won't have much to do with me...
I wish that the Vegas fairytale would have had a happy ending. But I guess if it had, Cricket and I wouldn't have started our project... I wouldn't have been there for him like I was today. In the end he'll be OK. In the end, my visitor will be OK... he is what he is and will always land on his feet.
But me... being a Comfort Doll isn't getting me anywhere, though I can't stop being one. I could, I guess... but someone has to do it. I don't mind, really. I just wish once in a while someone was there for me.