Torture
Saturday, December 20th, 2003
Torture
A Billy Entry
Evidently, MS has found a way to kill a person and make it look like an accident. Because every letter he sends me, I slink further and further away from real life.
I want to reach out to him, to write back and tell him that I'm sorry, so sorry, and that this is undoing me. But my rational side has convinced me that this is the right thing to do. Anything I could have ever had with him would have been based on these letters and not on reality at all. I would always want to know what we really had. And I would never be able to find out.
Still, I can never forget the fact that there is a real person somewhere in this town who is as distraught as I am; more so if his words are genuine. And as a human being I want to comfort him. To tell him that it will be all right, that it's just like waking from a wonderful dream: surreal and painful at first, but eventually comfortable and... familiar.
I couldn't lie to him, though. I'm not sure that real life will ever be comfortable again.
It would help to have Dom around, I think. He's been really lovely to me since all this has happened, always being there when I needed to talk, though I think the subject makes him vaguely uncomfortable. I don't blame him for not wanting to get involved in this, but I'm horribly grateful to him for making an effort. I don't know what I'm going to do without him for days at a time at the beginning of next week. I'm not accustomed to spending so much time by myself anymore. He's changed all that. At least he has some days off after Christmas. It'll be nice to mill about with him, just spend some time doing nothing.
There's always going to be a part of my heart that's elsewhere, though.
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