Please Don't Take my Sunshine Away

On the morning of Day One without Stuart, I slept way later than I'm used to from nursing the side effects of staying up half the night with my roommates and their partying friends plus the added help of a martini glass of homemade strawberry daiquiri without the mixer (yes, I stereotypically turned to the guest that's always invited to a party: alcohol. But, I didn't even have a whole shot of rum and that was it. I was so completely sober that I was in charge of taking the so not sober people to Spartan Mart for more alcohol. Drinking the daiquiri was more symbolic than anything else as it clearly didn't alter my mind or mood).
That day, Stuart and I were supposed to attend a wedding together, his best friends' wedding to be exact. Stuart would be a groomsman; I would be an audience member, and together we would dance away the night at the reception together, him in his tuxedo and me in a little flowing dress. Upon waking, the realization that none of this was going to happen was crushing. Suddenly, I had to see him!
With only an hour to get ready, I had Anna straighten my wild hair and help me pick out a dress. I raced around the house like a madwoman before jumping in my car for Winston Salem. It was the longest, most agonizing drive. There were so many things I wanted to say, there were so many things I had to say!

I got to the church an hour early (my first mistake). I walked in in my knee-length forest green dress with cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. It's my favorite in my closet. And there was Stuart! He wore a chocolate brown tuxedo with shiny brown shoes, auburn vest, crisp tie, and a fall-inspired corsage on his chest. He was the most handsome I'd ever seen him, and because of what had happened the day before, it was socially unacceptable for me to hold his hand... forget pulling him into my arms for a long, passionate kiss, which is all I wanted to do. He was beautiful; he was looked like any movie character at the prom, wedding, or masquerade ball scene where the lovers come together in their best dressed and exchange shy, loving smiles. Except this time... there were no loving smiles. It was tense and awkward and heartbreaking.
I signed the guest book and Stuart escorted me into the beautifully decorated church. I was left alone in the middle of the pew with nothing to do for an hour. I was in agony! To distract myself, I picked up the Holy Bible and began reading ravenously.
It was the worst torture I had ever put myself through... or so I thought. Then the wedding started. Ashley was so breathtaking and beautiful in her white flowing dress! It was perfect for her! And as soon as she started walking down the aisle, she and her maid of honor started tearing up. I kept glancing at Stuart, but his back was turned to me. I sat through the quick ceremony blinking back tears and trying not to lose it. I was heartbroken, the bridge and the groom were getting exactly what I had dreamed of: a beautiful wedding, and the man I love more than anything was looking the best he ever had ten feet away and he wasn't mine anymore.

To be continued...

An Open Letter to The Viking

Hey,
 How are you?
The last time we spoke to each other was a year ago today. So much has changed, so much hasn't. I wish all of this could be in person. I wish you'd actually be able to see this. I miss you.

I've been thinking about what I'd say to you here for weeks. It changes every day. I'm sure when I look back at this tomorrow I'll think of something I should have said and run it through my mind a thousand times wishing I had written it instead of something else or added a line or two, that all of my feelings were completely conveyed in what I'm about to write. Just another regret.
How are you and her? I heard you told her everything. I wish I had been there afterward to tell you both how sorry I am for everything that happened. It's not completely my fault, but some days, I take all the blame. That's all I want - to tell especially her how sorry I am to her face and not over an impersonal Facebook message through her roommate's account. I tried, I tried so hard to get her to talk to me. You did your best to make sure I didn't, and then you two together made sure we'd never speak again. I was never so hurt, shocked, and lost in my entire life. I won't tell you how low I sunk after that moment because I don't want you to have the satisfaction. But, it hurt. You knew how to hurt me the worst.
Maybe you weren't even thinking about me when you did it. But there had to be a part of you that knew how badly I'd feel when I learned from some stranger I could never talk to you again. Looking back, I told you "never to contact me again," but did I really mean it? No, not in the long run.
I'm transferring at the end of this semester. I'm going far across the state where there aren't any mountains or piles of snow. And yes, I'm running away from you and her and everything that happened. There's not a place on campus that doesn't remind me of you or her. I have to get out of here. I hate walking into a room and immediately scanning the room for red hair and my skin jumping when I see someone who looks like you. I can't stay here anymore, and I think you'd like to know that I'm leaving. Now you don't have worry about me anymore either.

What happened? Please, explain to me what happened! How did someone I share secrets with and let so far into myself now be unable to look me in the eye when we pass each other in the dining hall? Do you hate me? Does anger boil over inside every time you see me? Because it doesn't for me! I just feel an overwhelming sense of loss and an aching void. Is that sad and pathetic to still feel a year later?
Do you remember the good times we had? Watching a concert on DVD in your room the day before we left for Christmas Break as I helped you with a button on your shirt after we had unbunked your beds. Running up to you after I had finished my last exam and you swinging me up into a hug. Carrying me back to Walker after my sugar dropped when we were at Wal-Mart. Trying to convince me to skip class and stay with you for the afternoon in your room. Watching "Spongebob" one night and you tried to tickle my feet. Staring at each other in horror in my dorm room after Miles told her what he thought he knew. Did you trick me then... did you make me lie for you because you knew I'd do whatever it took to make you happy?
Part of me wonders if you were ever the person I thought you were. In some ways you have to be. Lisa told me about the person you were in high school, the same person that I thought I knew. Now it seems I've probably created and fabricated personality quirks about you that either don't exist or aren't to that extreme. Sometimes, I get the character you play in my novel mixed up with who you actually are. The person you are... are you a coward for not confronting me yourself and getting someone else to say the "bad" things for you? Are you brave and protective for "saving" your girlfriend from me? Or are you a vindictive, son of a bitch for what we did to her? Because you can bend the truth all you want, lovely, but that doesn't make what we did go away.
I'm glad she knows. When Lisa told me what happened, I was so relieved. Finally, I thought! Finally, that poor girl knows the truth and I can stop hoping and wondering and praying for the relationship that she was caught in. No one should have to live in someone else's lie. I wish I knew why you told her, where the light bulb came from. In the end, it doesn't matter. Thank you for doing it - for whatever reason you did - thank you.
You asked me once if I hated you. I never did. I've missed you and have cared about you since we were first together in November of 2009. I occasionally ask Cory how you are, if you're alright. If anything ever happened to you...well, I'd probably break every rule and I'd be there to make sure you were ok. I never hated you. I just miss your company. What I do hate is what happened between us. We both could have handled things better.
After all that's happened though, it's time to move on. You're never going to seek me out and apologize in person. I'm not allowed to. I have to accept that. I want you to know that as sad as this letter sounds I am happy. You might not care, I think you might, but I am happy. My life isn't perfect, but it's better than it was. There's this great guy who takes such good care of me. He's been so patient while I've been dealing with all of this. You two have similar music tastes to a certain extent. I think you'd like that about him. I'm very happy for you. I'm so happy, sincerely happy, that you and her are still together, that you've gotten through all of this and have stayed together... as long as it's for the right reasons. I hope you two last and I wish only the best for you both.
Now, it's time for good bye. I really do hope I hear from you again.  I do. In my dreams or my nightmares, we're good friends again. But for now, this is good bye. I hope you have a great summer and you find whatever you're looking for in this life.

Until then,

Lex

I am Jack's Broken Heart

I can't describe this feeling. It's somewhere between wanting to throw up and being held down by a 2 ton weight.
Today, Morgan moved out of the apartment we have been sharing for nearly three months to start his life in Raleigh. And, I have been left behind.

I feel so empty, so lost. I keep waiting on him to come through the door with Bojangles biscuits or emerge from the bathroom with his cropped hair dark and wet, shirtless telling me about how McDonald's makes their chicken nuggets and what gun my favorite movie character is using during an action scene while I'm watching TV. But he's not here...

Instead, I'm locked up in my room unable to leave because my roommate (who is not even here) promised his room to two old friends of his. And, they have taken over the apartment, bringing in guests of their own. I don't even know these people! Never met them before in my life.

I have been sitting in my room since he left. I tried to start working on a 100-piece jigsaw puzzle of a humpback whale leaping into the sky while fish, two dolphins, and a shark swim around its tail still in the waves. I couldn't concentrate on it enough to even finish all the edge pieces. I have been playing movies nonstop on the television, films that deal with lovers having to be separated but having just enough action that I don't cry through the whole thing, such as The Constant Gardener and Underworld: Rise of the Lycans. I will cry then lull myself into silence then stare for a long time then begin crying again. Sparta comes in and out of the bedroom obviously finding the new people in the house more entertaining and interesting than the owner he sees every day. Other than him, I am alone, so terribly and scarily alone. Nothing and nobody can part me from Morgan's pillow, which he left behind for me. I feel the weight of the dogs tags I custom made around my neck, a pair for him and a pair for me, as his birthday present. One tag has my name and information, the other his. They are identical, except for the color of the silencers. Earlier, I ate the remainder of the brownies we had baked together... a large yet unsatisfying portion in a round metal pan. I nibbled on a peanut butter sandwich and went through some flavored Tootsie Rolls, but have not yet found an appetite.

Our perfect Christmas is over. Since Saturday after Morgan's graduation, we have had the apartment to ourselves with my roommates either gone home for the holidays or at work an hour away. One day we went to the WNC Nature Center, walking around a track to see gray wolves, coyotes, bobcats, a petting zoo, and other various North Carolina mountain critters. In the evenings, we shared popcorn and watched whatever was playing on ABC Family's "25 Days of Christmas." In the mornings, we slept in, curled into each other before making a hot breakfast like pancakes and/or scrambled eggs. Sometimes, we would get Bojangles for dinner or Japanese. One night I cooked spaghetti. One night Stuart made hamburgers, which unfortunately I missed out on as I was suffering from nausea from my bout of acute mono.

Yesterday morning we pretended it was Christmas morning. I woke Morgan from sleep by jumping on the bed yelling that Santa had come and we needed to open presents immediately! After an hour of his grumbling and delaying, we, including Sparta, made it out into the living room. Morgan opened his gift of a book he'd been dying to read from me. I got super warm mittens from him. Afterwards, we had hot pancakes and eggs while watching survival shows on Discovery Channel and "Spartacus: Blood and Sand."

We ruled the apartment together. It was the greatest five days of my entire 2010 year. I've never been so happy! Not since before The Viking and my parents' divorce. It was the greatest Christmas gift anyone has ever given me. It was better than any white Christmas.

Now, Morgan is gone. After he left, I took down our little Christmas tree by myself putting our Dollar Tree ornaments into a keepsake box and throwing the stub of a tree into the woods outside the apartment. It was discouraging and heartbreaking. We had kept the tree lit nearly every night since putting it up after Thanksgiving. Now, it is lying outside in the cold waiting to decay.
Soon, I will see Morgan again when we reunite to spend more of the holidays together. However, our life together at the apartment is over. It's very likely he won't be back here again thanks to his full-time job starting in January. And as Morgan pointed out to me a week ago, we don't know when we'll be living with or even near each other again. The dog tags we share say "212" on the last line; it's how long from January 1st to the day my apartment lease runs out and I am free to move as close to him as I want.

What we shared was a week of pure happiness. Now, we must continue on with life. ...But I don't know how. I feel like I've lost my home.

Like a C-List Stalker Movie

I saw The Viking today hand-in-hand with his girlfriend.
And, I began shaking so badly that I nearly fell off my bike. It literally took me at least two minutes to try and lock the darn thing to the bike rack.
It's been nearly a year.
This reaction should have stopped by now.
I don't even know what it means.

No point to the comic. It's just depressing. Cyanide and Happiness

Just Jump Outta Bed

My alarm went off in Muse's "Starlight" this morning at 7:00 a.m. I jumped out of the bed... quite literally because that's the best way to wake up. Just jump out of the bed! If you're not truly awake yet, then hitting your head on the closest object will probably jolt you awake! ...Or send you into unconsciousness. I'm pretty sure that counts as an excused absence so you're still in the clear.

At 8:05, I crawled sleepily into English 102 with one of my boys, "Billy," and we sit through a tedious lecture from a rambling man about how the class was going to go. I must be prepared for the awesome work load he will bestow upon us. With one other English class and two Communications courses plus a job at the newspaper, I'm going to be swimming in Microsoft Word documents! O_O

At 9:05, I arrived in Writing for Mass Media taught by Mrs. Mass Media herself. Her husband, Mr. Mass Media, also teaches at Western Carolina and runs the Communications department. Mrs. Mass Media, who I'm sure I'll get to know as well as my mom, is not only my personal academic advisor but also the head of the journalism department (a.k.a. my concentration). I have a good feeling about Mrs. Mass Media.

At 10:10, I have a prune-ish looking woman come in dressed in head to toe in deep purple to tell us in a flighty stance how we're going to be learning about poetry first in Intro to Literature, a class for my minor of Creative Writing. My intuition tells me I might not always find the class so interesting because of this professor's stammering and sudden thoughtlessness, but I wasn't going to immediately drop the class. More than likely, I wouldn't be able to get into a different section that went with my schedule.
A break for lunch then a rather suave-seeming gentleman enters my Interpersonal Communications classroom, which I had originally thought Mrs. Mass Media would be teaching. The Joker, who enjoys starting every class with a joke or two today's being "What did the fish say when he ran into the wall" and I finished for him "Dam," was a casual guy with a twitch about his hands. Every word with emphasized with a hand gesture. You know, he doesn't seem the type, but if one day he announced he was gay, I wouldn't be surprised at all. Not because of the hand gestures, but also because he wears no wedding band and I get these really strong vibes about people. I don't have a swelled head, but I'm usually right.
The entire day I was on the lookout for The Viking. It was only a matter of time before I ran into him, I knew that, but throughout the day... nothing! I wasn't thrilled. I wanted to get it over with, but it was nice. Then after Intro to Lit, a familiar-looking girl sidles up beside me as we head down the staircase.
"Hey, aren't you friends with "The Viking"?"
I was completely caught off guard and after stumbling and mumbling for about thirty seconds in which the girl says his full name as if I were trying to think if I knew this person to which she referred, I finally managed, "Um... it's... um, it's complicated. We're not f-f-friends anymore though."
The poor thing saw I was obviously flustered and probably a bit pale and immediately apologized.
"No, no, it's ok. Please, it's ok," but I didn't know if I was assuring her or myself
We parted with smiles, and I think I will enjoy her company in the future. As long as her friend The Viking stays far away.
After classes were over, I headed to the book store to get one that wasn't a rental happy and ready to kick back at the apartment. I had survived the day. The Viking wasn't in any of my classes. I hadn't seen him or his girlfriend or her roommate and life was sweet. I exited McKee with one of my friends talking about when who came around the corner! The Viking! I immediately spotted him. It's hard to miss that cloud of fiery red hair.

I cannot describe the icy rocket that shot through my stomach, down my shaking knees, and into my feet. But, I continued to walk as normal, talking to my friend, and we crossed paths. I didn't make eye contact, but I know he saw me! And we passed like we were complete strangers never to have met, never to have conversed, never to have hugged, never to have kissed, never to have made promises to each other. I can't think of anything sadder or more breath-stealing than passing the one who you knew so intimately and.... Even now, a summer past since we last spoke, I tried not to let the tears start when he walked behind me. I try to ignore the emptiness in the boys' conversations when they purposefully leave his name out saying "Adam's room" when it's really Adam and The Viking's dorm room. Driving back to the apartment after jury duty, I had this horrible, vivid flash that Cody, The Viking's roommate last year, could have possibly invited him over to check out the place and I would walk in and see him there... and I began to suddenly sob and shake so badly while driving down the highway just a minute away from the apartment. I was about to pull  over. I probably should have.

This has to stop eventually! Please, it must stop sometime. But I dwell on everything, anything like it's the most important detail, piece of information that I could soak up when it is so insignificant. What makes it more difficult is that everyone else knows it's insignificant and makes me feel wretched for paying attention to it the way I do. But that's me. I can't help it... but I can't keep living (or not living because it doesn't feel like I'm living, I wasn't "living" this summer) like this.