Every time I post up something uncomfortably real about what I'm going through, I think to myself: "That's some really unflattering self disclosure there, lovey- best to keep that tidbit to yourself." But when I read back, I am SO grateful I wrote it down.
This agonizing unflattering self disclosure is what makes this blog actually useful, so here it goes. I can barely bear to type this out:
I unfriended him on facebook to help me move on, but all too regularly I go back and check his wall/timeline/fuck all. And since the day he told me he didn't want to see me on a kid free weekend, that he was busy and had a gal pal from recovery visiting and staying in his house for the week, and was too busy to see me--- since THAT day- he's had the picture I took of him up as his profile piq.
It's really not one of his more flattering photos, I must say. His bangs are spikey and weird looking, presumably from many hours of heretofore never experienced amazing sex. I nearly said amazeballs, but that would be misleading.
Why won't he change the picture? I ask myself. I think today is day 7 of this picture, ugh. It's the picture I hesitated long and hard before deleting from my computer, and then a few hours later, there it is again. In that picture, he's looking *at me* when we were completely init. In that space I'd always imagined I'd get to some day be in.
As an aside, I've always been fascinated by the expressions people wear when specific people photograph them. I've made it somewhat of a study, and part of what I enjoy about candid photos is figuring out who took the photo based on the subject's eyes and expression. I can almost always tell who photographed my dad, for example- almost always.
Reading my last entry- I'm so grateful I wrote that stuff down, all of his unhealthy weirdness that is so turmoil-inducing, it makes me grateful we're through even if I haven't exactly moved on yet, those truths are big game changers pointing my heart and spirit in that direction.
Yet, at some future moment, probably sooner than later- he'll have changed his profile picture. And it will be gone, because I did not save a copy of it. And some new wave of grief will wash over me- but not really, it will be like a tiny outgoing wave that just hits my feet, or maybe not even my whole feet, just enough to let me feel how cold and unwelcoming that vastness really is.