The worst part about it, of course, is the fact that it’s not just a nightmare -- it’s a nightmare in which I relived everything that occurred that night exactly as it happened. That's almost worst, I think.
Every time I close my eyes I see Sarah’s father staring at me; his hurt, painful eyes. Dammit, why couldn’t he have just been pissed off with me and taken a swing at me? Why did he have to come off like that? All “I trusted you, Peter” and shit. Man, that’s what really gets me.
I also spent a long time reading and re-reading the three comments on my last post. It’s funny that Frank should mention me being a writer. That’s what Sarah wants to be. A writer. And she’s going to be a damn fine writer, too.
But that’s her. Not me.
At least Frank gets me. Fuck, the guy lives in South Africa (I followed his comment post to his own blog -- what a fucking awesome thing this whole blogging thing is), and he gets me. I don't know how he found my online journal, but at least he fucking gets me. Yet people I know, within my own town, they just don’t get it.
There are a couple of other comments from this Michael dude and Kim chick (Yeah, they seem to be bloggers, too, and from Ontario -- man, this whole blogging thing is huge -- I never really thought about it much before). Yeah, okay, I see the advice, and I hear you. Blah, blah, blah, fresh pain, if you love something set it free. Gee, you think I haven’t heard these things from my friends?
Well, I guess I would have heard these things from my friends if I was hanging around with them. But I haven’t been. I’ve been avoiding them since Sarah dumped me. You know why? Because I don’t want to hear all that bullshit from them. And now I’m reading it here. Jesus. You just can’t escape people and their unsolicited advice. Even if they're complete strangers and you haven't a fucking clue who they are.
I did let Sarah go, dammit. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve tried to call her or approached her at all? It’s been almost a week. Fuck. What do you want? Want me to move to another town? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to just “back off” anyway? It’s not easy -- not at all easy.
If only I could fucking sleep. Just a little bit.
If you don't want advice, then tell people to back off. Just keep in mind that you don't have to go through this on your own, if you don't want to.
(and by the way, men can do just as much to women as women can do to men!)
Not to give you more unwanted advice, but I find that the thoughts will stay in my head and play over...and over. The only escape I found was words. So, I begin to capture my thoughts, and put them on paper. I continued to write word upon word until all the thoughts that were in my head were now on paper. Then, I slept.
I really believe that your guidance counselor was on the right path in advising you to start a blog.
I hope that you find peace soon.
Good luck, Peter.