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journal, 08/30/97

Janet Kuypers

    I just had breakfast with Dave. It was very nice. I talkd to him yesterday that we should be happy more, that we should just be happy, that we shouldn’t keep fighting. And it was nice.
    And then we were watching television and a song was on MTV, and it was a song by Jewel, and it was all about how she does the little rituals during the day, like brughing her teeth, or turning down the sheets of her bed at the end of the day, or leaving the light on when she leaves a room, and how all of these little rituals or idiosyncracies remind her of the one she loves. And every time I hear that song I think of Joe, and I try not to, but I do anyway. And I keep thinking that I keep trying to be good, I keep trying to be the best I can be, I keep trying to exceed my expectations, which are everyone else’s expectations, but I can never match him. I can never be as good as him. And I had to let him go.
    And then I came home from breakfast with Dave and Eugene was waiting for me, and he saw I wasn’t happy, and he was concerned, and he managed to make me smile for a little bit, but I still feel terrible.
    Why do I feel like what I want is unreachable?
    I keep thinking that Eugene is the one, and I still feel like I’m destined to marry him, even though I don’t believe in destiny, but I feel like I can’t talk to him. But I fear that it’s not his fault; I fear that the problem is with me, not him, or anyone else. I feel like I have all of these demons inside of me, and I can’t let them out. I have all of these secrets.
    Like Joe. Why can’t I just stop loving him and get it over with? Why did he have to shape me so much? Why did he have to make me think? Why did he have to make me think? Sometimes I want to curse him for it. Ignorance is bliss, they say. It makes me wonder if it would be easier if I just didn’t think; but I don’t know how.
    I see glimmers in Eugene sometimes. I see what I loved in him. And he can sense that, he knows what I am thinking when I am thinking that I love him. I wish he didn’t know sometimes, and sometimes I wish he knew more than he did. Isn’t it just like a woman?
    Today I’ve been going back and forth between elation and complete depression. I have learned to turn it off when I need to, the depression, that is, when someone surprises me or if someone gives me a call I have learned how to just turn it off. But then I get off the phone, or they leave the room (finally), and I am allowed to feel as miserable as I did before again.
    I guess it doesn’t help that I’m on my seventh beer, and it’s two o’clock in the afternoon. It’s probably time for me to go.



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