jamidora's box
November 19, 2003 � 7:38 p.m.

First Entry Today

I have a box of �Could Have Been� memories at home.

Wait�let me back up a bit.

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ANNOUNCEMENT: BEING AS I AM A SMACKED ASS THAT CAN NOT COUNT, THIS IS THE REAL 200TH ENTRY, AND NOT THE LAST ONE. SOMEONE POINTED THAT OUT TO ME. SO THANK YOU, SMART GUY. THANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME OF HOW RETARDED I CAN SOMETIMES BE.

And now�back to our regularly scheduled entry.

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Earlier this year I was engaged to be married. I thought this man would be the father of my children, the provider of our family, the love of my life. I thought he would be these things because I made myself believe that I wanted these things�with him. He bullied and cajoled and convinced himself into thinking he was ready for all those things, ready to settle down, but when crunch time came, he ran rather than see it through, and I was devastated. I was devastated, as I came to learn, because he left me. He had the nerve to leave ME�the perfect girlfriend, the rare find, the diamond in the rough�he dared to leave me and never look back when I never wanted to be with his stupid ass in the first place. It was hard to come to terms with that�with the fact that I convinced myself that I loved this man�that he was what I wanted�that he was enough�that even with all his flaws and shortcomings I could love him still. I convinced myself that I loved this man when I hardly even LIKED him. I was so convinced, that I let myself spiral out of control because he was not with me. I became pathetic and reclusive, bursting into tears at the drop of a hat, calling him and begging him to tell me what was going on, drinking myself into stupors night after night. I was so complete in my delusion, I contemplated death because life without him just seemed improbable. I went through all this drama and pain and heartache�for a man I didn�t REALLY want to spend my life with, but settled for because he loved children and I wanted children and he told me he would be the luckiest man in the world to have a woman like me bear his children.

After we broke up, I lost our unknown baby, and my luck ran out.

Something inside of me died and was flushed away just like that poor, doomed fetus.

And so I punish myself�everyday I punish myself�though some days the punishment is more severe than on others.

My latest submission to pain is my tryst with Swiz, which has turned into a masochistic, roller coaster frenzy. I didn�t consciously begin this affair with the intention of hurting myself. I never thought it would go as far as it did or that I would sincerely feel as intensely as I do after the whole failed engagement with Cowboy, but it did and I do and I�m screwed because of it. Not screwed because of the obvious reasons�you know�.dealing with someone with a girlfriend, only being someone�s fuck buddy, falling in love with someone I can�t have, lowering my standards to keep someone I don�t have in the first place, not looking for anyone else, loving him completely knowing he doesn�t return my love�no�oddly, I�m not screwed because of any of that. Despite the occasionally occurrence, I have basically made peace with the situation and accept my part in this farce fully�knowing that it�s hurtful, knowing that it�s wrong, and knowing that more than likely, the only way this all will end is badly�yes�I know all of that and love him like crazy still.

Partly as punishment�partly as release�but mainly because it�s the only thing I know to do. I miss him and need him and want him and love him more and more with each breath and last night it all just sort of collapsed on me finally, showing me how far gone I really was, and I fell in step with a raging case of The Mean Reds.

I was sitting on my bedroom floor, silently sobbing and pulling at my hair as the agony barreled it�s way through me, when I saw something shiny glinting in the corner of my eye. I turned to look at it, the box I constantly avoid looking at whenever possible, and by some force greater than my restraint, I reached over, picked it up, and opened it.

My beautiful box of �Could Have Been�.

It looks like a small pirate treasure chest with red velvet lining, and it was THE most favorite thing I ever owned, and so inside of it, I stowed away my most secret treasures: my dreams. Dreams for love, dreams for happiness, dreams for a future�dream, dream, dreams�all forgotten and stuffed away in my pirate chest, tucked on a shelf out of my view.

Until last night.

The smell of China Musk filled the air as I opened it. Inside were 2 pennies, 3 poems I wrote, 5 letters, 21 song lyrics, 1 list and 1 blue velvet box. The pennies were pennies I had found in the same handful that had our birth years on them. The letters were the only letters he had written to me while we were together�professing his love and unending adoration�bullshit. The poems were little half written ditties that I had started in order to surprise him with on my pillow on one of the days I had to leave while he was still sleeping. The song lyrics were all songs I had collected together that reminded me of us and that I wanted made into a CD to be played and given out as favors at our wedding. The list was a list of names I had picked out for our children. The blue box contains a glorious heart shaped, 4 carat CZ with smaller one surrounding it in the silver band. I named it �Heart�s Desire�.

That box had remained shut up since a week after we broke up. I never look at it, never wonder about it, and never miss it. Last night, while hanging with The Mean Reds, I dared to open it up and the past and the future came out screaming at me, chastising me for my neglect and foolishness, drowning me in my idiotic sea of hopes.

I dared to open up Jamidora�s Box�hoping for the end, praying for some pain, wanting the hurt to double, triple, unfurl to the edges of the universe�but nothing of the sort happened.

The tears stopped flowing as I opened the blue velvet box, took out the ring, and slipped it on my finger�watching with child like wonder as the rainbows danced across the walls from the light hitting my ring. I read all of the letters, half written poems, and song lyrics, half smiling at the memory of a dream wedding laid to the wayside. Then I opened the list. I read over the names, touching the name lightly on the page as I said them out loud, my face pulling into a frown and my eyes threatening to spill tears. There they were. The names of my unborn children�our would be, forgotten family�Jamidora�s (that�s our names put together to form one) tribe.

And the hollow chasm widened, and my heart struggled to pump as my pulse slowed, and my mind was bombarded with visions of the future that never would be and those neglected, hidden desires crackled and flared again, consuming everything with it�s intensity.

I want to be happy. I want to be a mother. I want to be a wife. I want to be loved.

Still.

I thought all hope and desire of that had died when the relationship had folded up and the baby had died and I willfully laid in taken man�s arms. I thought I had let go of all of those notions, deeming them childish and unrealistic, proclaiming myself to be a fluff girl spinster for the rest of my life�but last night, The Reds came, Jamidora�s Box was opened, and my dreams were once again set free.

I feel�strangely�settled.

I closed my box of �Could Have Been�, got off of the floor and crawled into bed, and of course, my mind wandered to thoughts of Swiz. Will I end it? Probably not. I might have come to the realization that I want and deserve that happily ever future that I always coveted as a child, but that is the future. Swiz is here and now.

It�s not perfect, but it�s love. At least for me. And I can deal with that.

For today, I am his willing concubine, cloistering myself away and waiting for his call, his touch...his jaded love.

Tomorrow I will wake up and realize it is not enough and begin working towards my goals. Who knows�by some cosmic stroke�they might even include him.

Today, it is okay for me to love him and make a fool out of myself and make mistakes and have as much frivolous fun as possible.

Tomorrow will come soon enough.

After all�tomorrow is just another day.