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Tina has just gotten off the phone with Bette. Her heart feels full knowing that Bette truly loves her; that she didn’t abandon her. As she turns to her nightstand to cut the light out, Bette’s journal catches her eye. Feeling in a better mood since seeing and talking to her Beloved, she decides to read some before going to bed. However, she is not prepared for the onslaught of emotions that will stir within herself.
Monday, March 16, 2009
This is my journal… what am I supposed to say? Dear Diary or some other childlike phrase before I begin rambling incoherently.
I’ll just write. That’s what Dan said… ”put your thoughts and feelings on paper… any order, doesn’t need to be cohesive – it’s not a story…” Yeah, well, it’d be a pretty shitty story.
Tina is giggling as she reads Bette’s words, imagining the frustrated mutterings falling from the caramel woman’s lips.
Thoughts… thoughts… just write anything I’m thinking… anything I’m feeling…
This makes me uncomfortable. I’ve never dared to speak my inner most thoughts, struggles, fears, whatever… into even the darkest corners of the emptiest rooms, but here I am… writing them down. It feels as if I’m breathing life into them… giving them immortality… what if they consume me?
I miss Tina…
I miss Tina so much! I never knew it was possible to miss someone so much… it hurts – not just emotionally, but physically too. I feel… my body feels tight; it feels like I’m being weighed down by some unbearable pressure. It feels like I’m trying to fight that pressure, but at any moment it could just… suffocate me…
Tina’s breath catches as the heavy words resonate with her own experience; her mind a dichotomy of gratefulness and unyielding sorrow to know that Bette has been struggling with the same things she has since entering the facility. She continues to read.
My heart… my heart feels like it’s literally breaking apart. It’s like… as I watched Tina walk further into the facility until I couldn’t see her anymore, a deep crack formed on my heart – like when you throw a rock at a windshield – it’s not broken… just cracked… Then, when she didn’t call me… that crack began to spider – more tiny cracks forming around the first one… as time continues to move forward without being able to feel her smooth, fragile body enfolded into mine, without being able to run my fingers through her soft, golden hair, without being able to lose myself in the angelic lilt that spills from her lips – each word wrapped in love, without being able to smell the sweet essence she encapsulates – her scent is indescribable; the only word for it is Tina… as I move through each day unable to have those things… unable to have her… unable to have Tina… My T… those cracks spread and deepen; and with each crack the unbearable pressure builds.