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( , Sun 1 Apr 2001, 1:00)
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I love you today, more than I loved you the first time I said it (at Il Colosseo, over pasta and white wine) and I regret every taint that was caused to our relationship by my desire to bend over backwards to please which in turn was a direct consequence of my now-under treatment mental health condition.
For the ocean of tears that I have cried in these last two years, the pain has been alleviated by the memory of your smile and your turning to me on Sri Lankan on the way to the Maldives to say that you'd always dreamt of being there.
Every time I have been kicked by your coterie when I've been down, for every defamatory statement, for every libel and for every single lie and deception that you have been party to including the BAFTA-winning portrayal of the victim - I have let all of these pass over me as the actions of you in clearing your mind and your heart; your place in mine remains, my memory of you in the orchid nursery, or sitting on the verandah watching the sharks below.
If you were to ask what I want back - it's really, really simple: it's the opportunity to say the things that I didn't say, the return to the way we were before, but better.
You never knew this, but I used to wake in the night occasionally to turn the radio off and I'd see you there sleeping next to me in the pale light shining through our bedroom window and my heart would be so full of love for you and for what we were building (despites its flaws) that it took all my self-control to not wake you and tell you this. You may have dreamt some nights of having your left shoulder caressed and kissed? That's because I was there - doing just that.
Even when I didn't wake in the night, knowing you were there provided me with the bravery and the courage to continue. Believing that even my oblique references were sufficient also comforted me - albeit a false sense of security.
We had a very special love, and a love that feels as real today as it did then. Every day I would wake next to you or wake with you in my mind, I fell in love again like the first time. The refreshing of that position felt like taking a warm shower in you.
Today is day 732 and my count of the days will continue for as long as it takes for your return and my only comfort until that time is knowing that one day I won't have to worry about my habit of breathing in and out any more.
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 10:15, 2 replies, latest was 16 years ago)

I'd have a good rant but it's about someone on here and then they'll read it and then ask loads of questions and that seems like way too much effort.
Instead I'll bitch about all the people that post shit about their fucking cats. I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR CAT.
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 10:25, Reply)

I have nothing to say to you at all. Not after that night *cries*
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 10:28, Reply)

washing machine and then dry them off in the microwave
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 10:31, Reply)

used to like sleeping in the microwave whenever we left the door open.
true story.
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 10:33, Reply)

So instead I poured bleach into my eyes which was a much more enjoyable experiance than watching anything to do with cats.
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 10:52, Reply)

I only like cats if they act like dogs.
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 10:59, Reply)

dog like enough?
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 11:03, Reply)

...I imagined cuntyballs Hugh Grant making that speech in some dreadful Richard Curtis film.
Or Tom 'Not Gay' Cruise.
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 10:24, Reply)

insert the word "gosh" and put on a floppy haired wig if it helps?
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 10:25, Reply)

...and then leave her to get a blow job from a crack-whore.
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 10:40, Reply)

..like that sort of thing. (Not being a reckless cunt that is.)
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 11:04, Reply)

...they do stop complaining after you shut the lid.
( , Wed 27 May 2009, 11:24, Reply)
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