I'm so tired. I'm sick and I'm lonely and I'm exhausted. I can't post any outfits because I'm too worn down to get dressed. When I feel like this, I can't even imagine that I'll keep blogging; I can't see how it will be possible for me to write about myself, my every day life, how I'll ever put on nice clothes again and go outside and take photos and post them. It all seems unbearably hard, almost impossible - and what's worse, I can't see the point in any of it. Not right now.
The reason I started this blog was not that I thought people would admire me, tell me I'm pretty or that my clothes are cute, that I'm a good writer or that my opinions are interesting. It definitely wasn't because I have any illusions that I'll start earning money from it or become a so called "blogger celebrity". No, the reason was very simple: I felt all alone, and I desperately wanted to communicate with people, someone, anyone. And it worked! You wonderful people, who comment on this blog or e-mail me, have become the group of friends I simply don't have "in real life". But just like I have serious trouble staying in touch with friends outside of the internet, I don't see how I will be able to keep all of you in my life. And the reason is exactly the same: I don't feel like I've got anything to give. I'm nothing but this sad, lonely girl who lies on her couch and watches Grey's Anatomy until she falls asleep at 5 am because she's scared to go to bed alone, who won't talk about anything but her cats, who bites her fingernails down to the flesh, who wants to eat but can't find the energy to even make a sandwhich. Who can't take care of herself, so how could she ever be of any use to anyone else?
That's how I feel tonight.
Yes, I truly am Little Miss Sunshine.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I've had the most painful period cramps all day, throwing up and feeling ridiculously sorry for myself. Or maybe that they found premalignant changes during a pap smear back in August, that I've been worried out of my mind ever since and am having surgery in ten days and I'm just not good with surgeries, I'm not good with being sick, I'm not good with hospitals and pain and needles and maybe I shouldn't watch so much Grey's Anatomy because people constantly die on that show from the most routine procedures.
Or maybe it's because my boyfriend is making a film in another town and he's never home and even though I'm happy for him and proud of him and even though I've gotten better at it since the cats came into our lives, I'm still not exactly comfortable with being by myself. My head starts producing the bad kind of thoughts and noone is here to tell me they aren't true (and that even if they are, they won't kill me).
Or maybe, just maybe, this all is somehow connected to the fact that my best friend in the world, the only best friend I've ever had, the only person who's ever really, really known me through and through, was buried a year ago today.
I wrote her a song, it's bad, of course, since I'm not a particularly musical person, not like she was. But I still think she'd be proud of me, she might even like it. It starts like this:
Once or twice or a thousand times, I have wished to live my life all over
Not that I would change a thing; I just want to do it all again
Break the same rules, play the same games
Feel that way you made me feel
I'd make the same mistakes, make them twice as bad
If that's what it takes.
Corny, yes. I'm a corny person.
Fanny, I am so so so so so sorry we had to bury you, but I hope you were there to see it, because it was beautiful. And it wasn't one of those funerals where people are calm and collected with eyes that are just a little red, no, we cried, we cried so much that we couldn't breathe; you had been dead for a month and still we all cried so hard that now and again it drowned out the voice of the priest, because that's how broken our hearts were, that's how impossible the thought that you were really gone. And the huge church was filled with family and friends who all love you, crammed, people were standing in the back. You touched the hearts of so many. You changed my life. And I am so grateful. I'm so sorry we had to bury you. I'm so sorry that it's been a year and I still haven't figured out a way to bring you back. But I think about you every second of every minute of every day and there is no way you will ever be forgotten. Ever. If I'm lucky enough to have children, I will tell them all about you and they will feel safe knowing that their godmother is an angel who's watching over their every step.
So: That's how I feel tonight. It's embarrassing and agonizingly pathetic, but that's life. I'll get through this night, I'll get through the next one, and I'll keep gettin through them until the sun rises again and I'll wake up without feeling like I've been stabbed in the heart. And on it goes. The good with the bad and the bad with the good.
Maybe I shouldn't have told you all this, but I have noone else to tell. And you are my friends. However sad that might sound.
