Coarse correction
My heart sank. There was so much left to do here in Los Angeles; even if I didn't want to feel like this, it was part of my punishment. I laid in her bed now, curled up in a pile. This grief had built up for so long, even a day of good news and good sex wasn't enough. A small spiral, followed by sobs and tears.
I slept a bit, my sleep interrupted by dreams. Mostly about her, but a bit about him too. Some of it was comforting in the moment. You hear them say all the things to alleviate your guilt— "I don't blame you for leaving" and "I still love you." Words I craved to hear and only hurt when you realize it's a dream.
There was part of me that wanted it to fall apart and be sbigger than I can handle. Give me an excuse to give up and move on. But now, now I had to actually step up and face the things I had been avoiding. Like my friends. After all these years, would they forgive me for disappearing?
