Withered

Everyone believes or believed I am/was wasting my time. I am not a man who wastes time, I am fairly good at many things and I just don't waste time in any endeavor I pursue. Never have, never will. So yeah, I was used and I knew this would happen so it didn't take much for me to accept it. It was all a matter of time before the sand settled on the ground and the real colors came into display.

This has happened to me before. I had fallen in love with this beautiful, exuberant flower. True, she was given to me in a horrible, tattered condition. But I was naïve, still am. I thought I could save it. She was so beautiful to me. I dedicated day and night to her. I talked to her, I watered her everyday, I tended to her. I became too involved. She began to grow before my eyes, improve her condition and at least have more willpower to fight.

One day, without notice, fuss or fanfare, she passed away. Her little leaves crumbled, her petals withered so that she was nothing more than a memory to me. I spent days looking at her, thinking a million ways of how I went wrong about her care. What I could've done to save her. How, if I would've tried harder, spent more nights by her side, then maybe the outcome would've been different.

Now my garden life and my real life have mirrored each other in the cruelest of ways I guess this is my form of payment for letting go of myself so. For not holding back, for truly forgetting my place. There are plenty "I should've known better" running around in my head. For now, I will not pay attention. Believe me. There are plenty of empty nights ahead of me.

There is a person in a worse position than me right now. I wish the best for her. A genuine chance for happiness or at least the courage to find someone who is worth her time and love, and that would give her the ability for her heart to heal and move on. I am just sorry I couldn't be that person. The affections are still the same.

Pixie was acquired by another person. Though I was saddened, I think it's for the best. I wouldn't be able to care genuinely for her right now. Or anyone for that matter.

Should and Shouldn't

I took a plane to Miami, just as I shouldn't have. I went to see her, just as I shouldn't have. I told her my conclusion, reached after 24 hours of profound, mind-numbing, grueling reflection, as I should've. I'm staying with Philippa. It's the right thing to do. I am not going to continue with a relationship that is potentially noxious for us both, that will end up destroying us... that will end up destroying me. I have no intention of letting go of who I think I am. I'm too proud for that.

Though without a doubt, it was one of the strangest things I've ever lived. I felt I was alive in two alternate dimensions. The one where I was sure of what I was doing and KNEW I had to break it off. The other, where I just wanted to hold her and kiss her and listen to her complain about her trifling manners. The moment spoke and laid things out for her, I felt separated from my reality... which is puzzling to me. She reacted just as I had expected, throwing me out of the room after making me feel regretful for doing what I did. I found myself smiling after it. Call me arrogant, I feel I can win her back somehow even if she clearly stated that she doesn't do the "let's be friends" deal. Ironic, that's all I'll say.

I am beat though. I am scheduled to leave to London on the next flight out. 7:25 P.M. I hope I can actually make it to the airport and to the flight because I have not slept for almost two days. I normally sleep a lot, early and well. These fews days have been so bloody hectic, I haven't touched my bed. I find this abnormal and rather vexing. There are few people (if not NONE) that I would loose sleep for.

With a few hours to kill before I have to be in the airport and with Caterina not wanting to see me, I suppose there's only one option left for me to do. Aimless walking around boutiques. So much fun.

Evolving into migranes

I am experiencing of one of the largest, most vicious headaches in human history. It's not even funny the amount of pain and discomfort that I'm feeling. Must be a migrane.

It doesn't help in the least when I receive a call from her; weeping, feeling all morose and lonely. It kills me. I wish I could be there with her, well aware that she's crying for idiotic reasons (knowing her) but I can't be there to comfort her or even call her off for being such a melodramatic queen. I am here. I am stuck in London. And for one bloody minute I wish I could stop thinking (and cursing as well).

You can't stop me. I'm going for it. Me and Mr. Bourbon, reunited once more.

What a truly pathetic existence.