I guess the best thing to come of this “whole thing” is that I sat down with notebook paper and began writing That Letter. I couldn’t feel it writing from a computer, so with a sharpened Dixon-Ticonderoga pencil and several sheets of college rule, I poured my feelings out onto that page. First in hurtful rage, then in cold anger, lastly in anger-touched-with pity.
How do I always fall for the egotistical assholes? I don’t do it intentionally, but they dress themselves with such believable masks. Still, I’m no idiot and any guy whose talk is based on self with few, if any questions about me, well, that’s a red flag. I knew. I just couldn’t convince my head to override my heart.
I learned, if anything, how much the power of women can hold me up. Fellow sisters that I haven’t met yet sent their thoughts to me, which meant a great deal. We have all encountered such men, I’m certainly no Lone Ranger, so the empathy is real.
The weekend was a glimpse into lovely homes which influenced me greatly to start getting my place into shape – something that inspires me. I wanted the school desk in my room for writing, so the book case became a vinyl case with the turntable on top. A gallon of red paint will result in a red book shelf for a bit of POP.
Tomorrow, a new day – a day of letting That Letter sit for overnight to so it can decide if it needs editing. I would love to use the word “fucker”, but he isn’t worth it.
Picture: My new writing area
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