Things I can't do anymore
1. Call you "baby."
2. Take naked pictures of you.
3. Tell you that you "turn me on."
4. Tell you I'm angry.
5. Tell you how angry I've been at you for 20 years.
You say it's not the way it happened, but this whole thing started when you dragged my old teenage diary, and the bundle of notes I had kept since my teens (the ones tied with pretty yarn, that my girlfriend, who died over 20 years ago, gave me), out of the back of the dusty closet. What made you do that, I have no idea. I didn't even remember they were there. Some day I was going to back and look at them and see how far I'd come. I was going to read her notes and reminisce about the "good" old days, and get teary-eyed and remember how much I missed her.
But the world came crashing down when you read the entire diary and all those notes, and even took notes of your own on what you'd read. You now can recite to me names and dates and events I have no recollection of whatsoever. Out of anger that you had done that, I burned the whole lot the next day. I didn't read one page or one note, only saved a watercolor she had done. I've regretted that day ever since.
You found out things about me that I'd never told you and some things I didn't even remember. Like how the first guy I slept with was her brother, and how he was 7 years older and a drug dealer. Like how there were a lot of guys before him, even though there wasn't the same degree of physical intimacy. And how there were so many holes in my brain that I will never be able to fill.
I'm writing this blog because every time you write me a note, and ask me for my feelings, my words get twisted. When we talk, you come back at me later with "Well, what you said was..." when I never said anything like that at all. I'm trying to keep my sanity, despite your telling me constantly that I have none. I'm trying to stay grounded. I am not crazy.