By now I suspect they are near the border, if not crossed already. They have my car and my dog. I don’t care too much about the car.
The temptation is to scrub this blog of anything relating in any way to this relationship. But. It would be false. Isn’t that kind of what my life was all about for the last several years? Everything is intertwined. Nothing is gonna change that … whether I show you, or not.
I don’t keep a secret paper journal. I don’t write crappy poetry anymore. This is it. This is the record. So I won’t scrub anything away but I’ll be happy that I didn’t start blogging until 2005. I’m spared, at least, the embarassment of five additional year’s worth of expressions of love. The two years recorded here make me look fool enough.
Like this, for example.