Last wrote a week ago. Threw book across room as I came to realize something. Painful realization. Holy fuck that’s exactly what was happening with me and him. I’m so stupid. I was too impatient. Too needy. Too drug-eroded. Too destroyed in my own inner life to see that each fight with him was an opportunity to close the gap between us, not widen the breach.
We were getting closer. We were.
I can’t even write his name today. I can’t. I’m too destroyed now again, laid waste by my regrets. This is my fault. Entirely my fault. The drugs are my fault. I have to own that responsibility. Say what you want about Megaton or bad luck or whatever. I’m the one who let myself be seduced by the drugs and blinded myself to what was actually happening right in front of my face. Fuck fuck fuck.
I’ve been living with this regret for a week and it’s heavy. So heavy. Today was the sixth day in a row that they asked me to leave the ashram because my weeping was disturbing the others. This time they asked me not to come back. Can’t see the fucking mandala through tears anyway.
I’ve accepted now, though, that I have to start over. I have to let go of the crap I did. I can’t move forward if all I do is pine over opportunity lost.
The pining is painful. I must let go of it.
Tomorrow I’ll look for another place.