what's been going on, now that you have gone

[erika]

It was supposed to rain yesterday. We had gorgeous weather—a little humid, but oh well.

And then, I got stood up. Heath said, when he cancelled our date on Wednesday, that we would go out on Saturday instead. Saturday comes, Saturday goes—no text, no email, no phone call.

I know I've mentioned this before, but the miracle of technology is such that now there are so many ways of talking to someone that if they don't, you can be absolutely certain that no, this person really does not want to get in touch with you.

Plus I called him and left a message, to which he did not respond.

Wish I could say fuck him, I'm done and walk away. But I know me—know who I've been—and I'll come crawling back again, begging for a scrap of his attention.

I could blame it on depression, say it left me so shell-shocked that I need someone to care for me, desperately.

I could blame it on my upbringing, point to all those years of invalidation and sporadic attention.

Instead I think I'll just blame it on me. Same reason he doesn't want me. It's all my fault.