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04.01.05 - 2:09 a.m.

there is something wonderful and familiar to coming home to myself, which is a weird thing to say, considering last night i was upset at the lack of what i had to come home to.

But the wonderful thing to know is that now...after all this time, after ALL this time, what i am coming home to, is mine. Mine. Right now, here is what i dont have to do:
1) drink more beer with s and be tired of drinking.
2) try and make s want to have sex with me
3) i dont have to worry about money because i took sheila's client today, and in return, she bought me two drinks. i dont have to pay for his drinks, i dont have to feel like shit because i know he drank more than me. I dont have to feel like shit because i know that i still want to make love to him and he wants to pass out and snore
4) i get to write. i get to sit here like doogie howser for as long as i want and do what i am paying so much money to do.

tonight was great. new friends and old friends, and one friend who once dated a man who was once engaged to carly simon.

something strange she said to me: "Its funny how you feel alone and now you have this line of people waiting to be with you." and i cant remember the context, and i cant remember what we were talking about...but i remember that, and its amazing how much you let one person validate you, and how empty you feel when that one person isnt there to do it for you anymore. Its amazing how, when all we have to work with is ourselves, we are constantly looking toward others to tell us things about the soul we have lived with for 25 years. And, i guess, you can ask your best friends to do that for you, and they will probably get closer to the truth than a lot of people, but finally, at 3 in the morning, its just you. Just you. And if you cant be happy with just you...i dont know, then something.

And its not just you. I know that. But in the end, its just you at 3 in the morning, for the most part. But! even when i was with s, for the most part, really, for the most part, it was STILL just me, at 3 in the morning. He was here, and his hand was on my leg, and he was talking about his day, and he was drinking beer, AND i knew that when i woke up, he would be there, with me, meaning, he would be physically in my space, but i know, and i KNEW that when he was with me, that time, was borrowed and inapplicable. IF you look at things in terms of applicability toward the future, which, being my father and mother's daughter i do, then at 3 in the morning, i was, still and always, alone. There could have been a circus in my tiny one room apartment in my cosmopolitan city, and it STILL would have been, me, alone, with a guest.

A guest. He was a guest, and something that should have been a cameo, turned into a one man show, and i was the only one in the audience and he was the only one on stage.

And there is something nice about knowing that i will do, tonight, what it is that i am made to do. I will write, and then i will take a shower, and then i will go to bed. And in the morning, i will wake up, and i will exercise, and i will come home and make coffee and listen to my music and think about my day. In the afternoon i will call my friends and make plans, and in the evening i will go out, and i wont think about my cell phone, because my friends, are there, and at the end of the night, i will come home and i will write and i will take a shower and i will go to bed. And the fact is, i will write, and i will exercise, and i will not worry about my cell phone and i will spend time with my friends. Those are facts. Those are good facts.

And i dont regret the time i spent with s, and maybe its only vodka and tonics that are acting as my salve, but i did all of that. I gave my life away. I gave my life to s and its not HIS fault that he couldnt carry it, and its MY fault that i offered it in the first place and i am about as far away as possible from realizing how relationships are supposed to work, but i do know this: that this is my apartment, that these are my words, and that somehow, i am starting over.

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