So I don't know what I have done. It's nothing bad or wrong but its definately open for interpatation and has been already so.

I went to Sabine's birthday last night. I had been on the fence about the event especially after the break up and Michael's plans to attend even with the aftermath of this past week. But I was talked into going and realized that I needed to be around people and not alone in my house with just the emptiness. So I made my way to Kelly and Johnny's to get away from the silence.

As soon as I arrived I made a deal with Kelly that she needed to not let people hug me at the bart since it would make me cry and that she would probably have to take my cell phone away after a certain point in the evening to prevent me from making any bad drunk dials to the boy. But when she was showering I got an unexpected phone call from a random friend about something huge that I would need to talk more about later in the evening. And so I changed my mind and decided that I needed to keep my phone on me.

I was worried about how things would go down at the bar because on the car ride down I cried. I don't think Lizzie, Kelly or Johnny noticed but as we drove by Michael's freeway exit I began to tear up. I just knew that the night was going to be hard no matter how much I pretended otherwise.

And then the drinks started as soon as we hit Sabine's party. It seems that it was a group decree that I should get hammered and so I had a cocktail at every turn of the evening. But it was fine--I posed drunk in pictures and got cuddles and explored a hotel and even ran into an old friend from my teaching days. It was good.

Finally I got the phone call I had been waiting for and I dealt with my friend for quite a bit outside the bar. Once we got as settled as we could, I hung up and without a thought in my head I called the boy. Michael and I had a long converasion in which good and bad things were said and I was honest in that all I wanted was to see him again. I know it's probably foolish but if I learned one thing from all of this it is to be clear about what you want and say what you mean. He agreed but warned me that he had blogged some stuff after we met that afternoon that I would not like--which gave me pause. But I promised to call him back

After the group decided to clear out of the bar--Lola and I decided that we would go and see Shannon at Vine. I was not yet ready to be alone and knew enough to be wary of what I would do if left to my own devices. So off we went to Hollywood proper. It was nice if a bit dull at the bar but Lola and I were able to chat and I drank some cheap sodas to sober up.

When I got home it was after 3:30 so I just went to bed but not before reading Michael's blog posting. The posting wasn't bad--he was angry and some of things he wrote hurt me but it's how he saw what happened and I can't blame Michael for his feelings any more than I can blame mine.

So when I woke up this morning I putted around the house cleaning and paying bills and just being busy. I went back on line and reread his blog and realized that I still wanted to talk with him. So I called him and we made plans to meet up later in the afternoon. I debated whether I should have made the plans but also knew that was what I needed.

Michael showed up rather quickly and we talked for the first time clearly since the break up had happened. There was no yelling or crying or accusations or misundertsandings. I explained that while I wanted him to stay, Michael needed to go home. Need always trumps want. So we just continued to communicated in the most honest and hard ways. And then as we sat on my bed in my room--because I thought the roommate was home--he looked in my eyes then hugged me.

I had not let Michael touch me since after he first told me about his plans to head home. I couldn't let him because I knew it would break me--or I would break him. But as Michael and I sat on the bed hugging and looking into each other's I knew this pure act of touch was what I needed. To let him go physically so I could start emotionally. And of course the touching led to many different things--but ended with my head on his chest and just listening to his heartbeat.

Now whether this was wise is a point that people could debate ad nasuem but I knew that it was something I needed. And we cried and kissed and talked and owned our mistakes in the grand scheme of the past few days. We were honest about where we stood and how we were still over but that didn't mean we had to say good bye just yet.

And so we made a plan to meet up and continue to talk and whatever else until Michael finally heads off home. In some ways this feels like living on borrowed time--a count down to the sadness--but I also feel like in someways this might help me start to let go. Maybe, maybe not. I could just be romantizing this whole turn of events instead of owning the stupidity of the actions.

But it's all I have and all I want in the moment. To listen to his heartbeat while I can, to look into his eyes while I can, to hold him and have hold me while I can. Because all I have right now is control over the moment--not the future. Maybe that's all we ever have--just what we're living in the current second of the time in our lives. I don't know.

Today's been a rough day. And now there is a part of me that is tired and wants to sleep. But there's that realziation that going to bed is just another push down the path to Michael's finally leaving. That knows when I wake up that I'll only have 17 days left.

I don't know if I'm ready.

Never Knew Me At All

So we had it. The last moment of any relationship--the one where you exchange stuff and keys and last words. That even though you mnight want to be friends down the road--that this is what it all comes down to for now. A good bye of sorts.

And we talked and fought and I cried and he did the 'I'll stay if you want' and all that motions that you go through when you end things. Like I could trust him ever again. What's funny is how much he never knew me--or rather--never got to understand it.

Now he says that when he came to me that night that I did have a say in what was happening and that I was the final part of his making decision. Now thinking back on it that might be true. Because I did say that he was useless to me if he wasn't happy here in LA.

That said--anyone who knows me in any way knows that I need time to think about things, to mull them over, before I can make a solid choice. That I am not a snap decision person and that I need time to think. And whne Michael left my apartment that night it was because I told him I needed to think about everything. I didn't realize that he didn't understand that maybe, just maybe, I needed more than an hour to fully decide the course of our rleationship. Instead he took my positive words as go go go and then he went off and made his plans to leave.

To know how little he got me hurts. That he had no understaning of who I was at all burns like a bitch. That when we did discuss things that night I made the point of asking him all the questions and now he's surprised why the answers he gave would hurt me.

And now I have to live with the remains of the relationship. He gets to break my heart while I have to live in the scene of the crime. The bed we shared, the street where we first kissed, the faces of my friends who watched our love unfold now look at me with pity. And he just gets to jet off home. And what's worse is all his 'Degressi Junior' advice. 'Don't let this harden your heart.' He has no fucking right to ever again talk about my heart. Ever.

I thought I was supposed to be home for him. Guess I thought wrong.

Someday I Will Be A Stained Glass Window

I'm going to start this off by saying that I'm drunk and sad and will horribly unfair and even crazy. I probably shouldn't be writing at all but I really need to try and tackle this—if only for my own sanity.

Michael and I broke up this past week. Three nights ago in fact. I wish I could say that I saw this coming, that I had any idea what he was planning or where this was all going… But no—I spent the last week before the break up in totally oblivion. I gave him the key to my apartment for Christmas, gave him my first New Year's kiss and even had some of the best sex of my life. So yeah—I had no idea what was about to happen to my happy little world.

It started off as the way a lot of our nights did—with plans to just get together and hang out. Nothing big, no major plans, just hanging out together. We've been a bit hectic as of late and so it was just meant to be a laid back evening. I realized that I needed to go food shopping and since I had worked late I hadn't been able to get to the store so we went together. It wasn't the first time we hit the local Ralph's together—it was supposed to be no big thing.

It wasn't until we headed back from the store, riding in the car when he told me that he was planning on moving home to New York for a bit. That he would possibly be back in 6 months—unless something happened to keep him home longer. Nothing was said about us per say—but the writing was on the wall. I was so blown out of the water that I didn't know what to say so I said very little but it was all the right things. About how I understood the choice to move home but that he couldn't expect me to live on some open ended promise that he might come back some day to be with me.

It wasn't until the next night that the reality of what happened fully set in. That even though we were a couple and in love that Michael just chose to make this huge decision about us without even talking to me about it. That he could decide to leave without even talking to me about it—or about us. It isn't fair. That when you're in a couple you don't get to pick and choose your life the same way you can that when you're single—you're supposed to make plans together and he never gave us—or me rather—that chance.

On one hand I understand why Michael wants to go home. He's been very unhappy in Los Angeles for a multiple of reasons; he's made little if any headway career-wise, doesn't like traffic and driving and misses the weather. That back in New York he has his family and career opportunities and all of his friends to be with—he could try and make some money while he lives at home. I get it but he never really told me that it was so bad that he wanted to leave here. I had no idea it was that dire.

But on the other hand I am so angry with Michael that I can barely breathe when I think about it. That I loved him—still love him—but at the end of the day all of our plans didn't matter. The fact we talked very seriously about getting married to point of proposal, about having kids, I even went to Edie for permission about him moving in—none of that meant a thing. Because if it had, if the intention was real and heartfelt then how the fuck could he just decide it was okay to leave without even the illusion of choice or discussion?

I wouldn't have asked him to stay if he had actually talked to me about the idea of moving. If he had bothered to explain his reasons instead of just telling me he was going to do this. I might have even been willing to try and work out some type of long distance relationship. Instead what I was given was no consideration for my thoughts or feelings on the subject. It hurts—I'm broken.

I know that in time I will get past this. That I won't cry or hurt or wish bad things upon him. I might even want to be his friend some day. But right now I have nothing, I'm empty, I'm shattered. That's all I have