the words i want won't come--just these

Here I am at Diedrich (now Dazbog) Coffee. Full intentions of writing on the novel today. It’s like I stepped back into someone else’s life. This was Brandon before Chad. I would come here and spend hours writing and blogging. I was perfectly content in that life, for the most part. I liked who I was, for the most part. I couldn’t imagine much better than just doing my own thing, free to do what I wanted, when I wanted.

So, here I sit, in my old life. And I hate it. Apparently, all the weight loss I have undergone in the past three weeks (yes, tomorrow will be three weeks) is paying off. I have a few men staring at me right now (one has even already dropped of a receipt with his name, number, and note on the back), of course, now that I am getting teary, I am sure their attention will divert elsewhere. I’m on page sixty-eight of my fantasy novel, and I could easily get to seventy-five, I know exactly where I need to go in it. One of my favorite characters just died a horrible death in the previous pages, and am I ever able to write about pain right now! It’s funny, ever since Chad and I have been together, I find it hard to write in my novels while listening to music, it’s too distracting. However, now I am not able to write without it (not distracted enough) and, sure enough, the second song that came on was Jon McLaughlin’s For You From Me, a song I dedicated to Chad and would, on occasion, sing to him. This is not the life I want, everything I do, hear, or see reminds me either of how happy I was with him or how much I have lost. Yes, I know it will get better in time. That knowledge doesn’t help so much. For several days, my brain has not been able to get Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat’s Lucky duet out of my head and I haven’t even heard it lately. “I’m lucky to be in love with my best friend, lucky to’ve been where I have been, lucky to be coming home again.”

Are you sick of hearing me cry all the time? If so, don’t answer that. I’ve had enough rejection. Just smile and nod.

Okay, I have more to say, but I have to get out of here. Despite the tears in my eyes, some big gross guy came over and asked how my dissertation is going. How’s that for a come-on line. What the hell? I guess I have found a worse place to grieve, not that that is the reason I came here in the first place. I know I’ve said I’ve turned it over to God, but He doesn’t seem to be fixing this fast enough. Could you ask Him to speed it up please?