“Hick darling…I couldn’t say je t’aime et je t’adore as I longed to do, but always remember I am saying it, that I go to sleep thinking of you.”
– Eleanor Roosevelt, in a letter to Lorena Hickok
It’s been a hard few days. The veneer is wearing thin. I feel as if any moment I will crack and shatter into a thousand pain shaped pieces. My mask of congeniality is brittle. Spun of sugar and solid as false glass.
The couch of has been mine for the last couple of nights. He came to the house and helped me with my suitcases. All I took with me. I’m grateful, yet I feel so guilty. Today I’m going to try and find if I can ferry some things out of here to somewhere else. The crocus I got for him is blooming. Three nights would be too many. Tonight is having a girly sleep-over evening and I think I’m going to try and do that.
I have to go to the house today first, and that makes me scared. I don’t know if I’d rather He was away or at His home.
Anyhoo – arrangements have been made whilst I was on-line. is lending me his pass, so I can get my traveling done without running out of bustix, and Aiden is going to help my carry things about.
I don’t know what else to say. I wish I were happy.
I miss you at night beside me. The absence of fire.