In two hours, I will be sitting at a computer in some mundane, sterile room taking the GRE for FOUR hours. This is the moment I have been working up to and I hope the culmination of my studies is apparent in my score. I spent a lot of my last month with Zach studying for this blasted thing and I will be livid if my assiduousness doesn't pull through.
Everyone feels that I will do well. But I think Life itself would have more of a laugh if I didn't. Because of that, I worry I won't.
But.. we'll see. I know better. Life doesn't care about laughs.
My general feelings over the past few days have been frustration, primarily at Zach. But also because before last night, I had had three consecutive dreams about being intimate with another person.
Hell. Bloody Hell.
I mean, I guess when you go from sleeping nude every night with your beloved, cuddling, canoodling, carnal knowing, to chastity in all areas of being in a relationship in the matter of moments, your brain is bound to start giving you subtle hints that it's not into this type of paucity. I guess my brain decided three weeks was too long and that it needed to remind me these sorts of things exist because it would very much like them to resume.
It's tortuous. It's tantalizing. It's downright enough to make you angry.
And so I am. Angry with Zach. Angry with him for not thinking about this, about abandoning all of us should anything he decide to do end his life. Maybe he did think about this kind of thing, but he must have assumed nothing would ever happen to him to that degree. Never happen to us. I know he must have assumed that, otherwise he would not have bothered acquiring a pet ferret three weeks before his demise. He would not have bothered brainstorming for children's names with me. He would not have bothered spending 3 hours looking at land for sale in the Untied States a mere four days before he fell so that he could build credit. He would not have bothered starting a CD he never completed.
He wouldn't have bothered. I guess if he assumed this sort of thing was going to happen, he would have been living a little bit differently. I bet he would not have been working his job still. That would have been the first thing to go.
Siiiiggghhh.
Futile Ruminations.
Sometimes I wonder why I even bother taking the time to write those things down. It seems hurtful to write them down. Like thoughts you should keep to yourself. But I guess I didn't ASK anyone to read this, just presented it to them should they want to.
I've been asking Zach, in between my ranting soliloquies to him, to advise me on things. Advise me on how long he feels is appropriate for me to wait before looking around this world for some other beloved. Advise me on my future living situations, alone or not? Advise me on whether or not I should get a tattoo (because honestly, I think he'd disapprove of permanently marring my being, though that didn't stop him from permanently marring my mentality).
(and for the record, I know the answers to these questions will present themselves when the time is right. but umm. i want to know now, please.)
Is the bitterness just seething from my pores? I think so.
Anyhow, I'm going to take this GRE. I am going to prevail, whether I score well or not. Once it's over, I'm going to lose one purpose in my life, studying, but gain another, applying to grad school. Then I'm going to go home because all of this is just making me sick to my stomach with homesickness.
Wistfully yours,
The Ringlet Leader.
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