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Monday, May. 13, 2002 / 1:35 p.m. ~Contact Has Been Achieved~ I had a rough night last night, and I realize that some things are far too personal for this format. Who'd have thought? I'm glad for my new paper journal. It's hearing a lot from me. Success has been achieved, to an extent. I received an email reply to my email, to whomever, and I still don't know who he/she is, but I was given the correct email address, I've visited the web site (oh yes, I wish I could share it, but that would not be advantageous), I've written, immediately did I write. Immediately. Brief, succint, well put, casual, yet desirous, not desperate, not yet. No, never desperate. He doesn't get to know what I've been feeling, not unless I know he feels anything similar. There's a photo of him on the web site. He looks different than he did Saturday, but still, but still.... Skipper wrote back, a short while ago, very brief, succint, well put, casual, in pain. He did want me, I was right. I knew it. He wanted so much from me, had such high hopes, as I now have with James. Life is so cruel. Lulu is sharing my enthusiasm today, I turn to her and say, "Lulu!! Did I tell you how excited I am??!!!" every few minutes. She feels it too. She thinks I'll hear back today, that James and I will indeed "go out", but I have such horrible doubts. I've lived too long to not know what can go wrong, to not want to prepare myself for pain. But I'm flying, I'm high up in the sky somewhere, nothing can faze me now. I've done it, I'm lying on the extended limb, a precarious balancing act is ensuing, you should see me. I am amazing myself. I've opened something inside me, it hurts and feels good at the same time. It feels so good that I only want more, I need to feed it, like it's a hungry beast that has been asleep until now. FEED ME!!!! Oh, and my stomach is a mess. Again, I'm not eating. I'm home for lunch, listening to the wind chimes clanging outside in wind, the storm moving in. And there's a huge raging storm inside me and I'm still so consumed in spite of myself. I have to see him again. If I don't, it will hurt so much. Cost of the War in Iraq
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