It’s been ten days since I last wrote, desperate to hear anything from him to let me know he was ok… I’d texted him asking him to just read it, to let me know he was alright -because all my messages had been stuck on “sent”, as if I’d somehow been blocked or muted… I have been nothing but beside myself with worst-case-scenarios playing in my head.
A few days ago I finally noticed my message had been read. A small relief. Something to let me know he was ok, but also something to let me know I wasn’t blocked or totally cut off from his life.
I noticed over this past week that he’s been active. I see him online and somehow am transported back to teenage-me, seeing him on AIM or MSN and praying he would notice me and send me a message… I am now in my thirties and wishing the same damn thing. But I tell myself, at least he is “active” and at least he is still here on this earth with me.
I try to not be so dramatic.
It’s not easy.
Tonight I drink an entire bottle of chardonnay, and finally send him another message. After all, he read my last one days ago and has been online every day since.. I can send him another one… I tell him that I just wanted to say hi and hoped he was having a good weekend, and that I wanted to remind him that I was always here for him… something along those lines. I just felt like a reminder that I am not angry with him and care can’t hurt.
He read the message, and never replied. Fair enough, I guess. At least he read it and at least he knows. It took a lot to get up the courage to send that message, and for that I am proud of myself. Way to go. You did it. Hooray.
I never know what the right thing to do is.
And so I sit here drinking and smoking, blood spilling all over the floor as I wait.
At least he’s here. At least he’s ok.
At least I can finally sleep.