I drank a bottle of wine tonight. Three Pinos or something from Trader Joe's.
It makes me honest.
I fucking still love Paul beyond any love I've ever had before, yet I never told him he was the love of my life like he told me constantly. It's been three years.
I check him often on Facebook, as in tonight.
He seems to be happily married, but....
he's checked my art blog three times in the last month or so from his office, so it is easily identifiable. He even downloaded a picture of my son playing his violin.
Thank goodness for my stat thingie.
I love him, regardless of what he's done.
I think he is still stuck on me. It is not a casual checking in.
His wife is ugly as dirt. I feel sorry for her. I can check her Facebook, too.
I feel sorry for Bea, as she will never measure up. I love her, but not with this passion and I fear her finding this blog.
I love Bea in an odd way. I do not trust her. She snoops through my stuff and my computer. I do not think she will ever really come through for me, the struggling artist and single mom. She's paid her ex over $600,000 in the last six weeks. Just because. She refuses to help me and I am going in the hole, near bankruptcy b/c I decided to pursue the life of an artist and all the costs that brings. It feels absurd to be partners with a multimillionaire when you're about to seek credit counseling. She constantly insists she cares, yet she always services her exes time and again before me.
She is too fucking stupid to appreciate anything intellectual. She is ghetto. Her family is ghetto. They use her and she services them at all hours. Her sister has AIDS and fucks whatever moves, yet Bea does not report her.
Contrasting this, Paul is the quickest brain I ever met, next to his brilliant daughter.
Just like it makes me cry that Memph is gone and can't watch Top Chef with me, I cry because I can no longer be with or trust Paul. But I long to.
So this is my drunken rant that isn't too drunk b/c I could easily drink another bottle.
This is me.