context: this pic was taken April 28 - the day I took Sy to England to stay with his father and the day I left to spend a week in Paris.
I look at this image and it stuns me just how much our faces are saying. I love and I hate this picture. Love it for its brutal honesty. Hate it for the truth it shoves in my face. No shoving necessary, thanks. I've known this all along. I think. Here's a man who loves me. Here's a man who I really don't know where to find the love that was once there for. I look. I've looked. I sometimes take a moment here and there to do a quick scouring of my conscience and subconscience for the love, but it just has gone AWOL. And this image brings us into the present... so into the present that it should be framed and placed on some kind of monument that would be erected solely for the purpose of commemorating the volatility of love. The only way that this image is not perfect is that our son is cropped out. but perhaps that can mean something, too. probably does.
my face "I'm happy. I'm here. Nice to see you - but you're a complete fucking idiot and it's too bad you don't see that about yourself because that one extra rung on the ladder to awareness that you refuse to climb is all that would take to unite this fucked up "family" of ours. But you refuse to take that one step upwards. So i'll smile at you because I haven't seen you for over half a year and the physical distance that you pushed between us by leaving has expanded into a much vaster emotional and psychological distance. and that saddens me. greatly. because none of this suffering is necessary. nor is the resentment that weighs my spirits down daily. nor is it necessary to do this to our gem of a child - who deserves more because he is so much more. fuck you, babatunde martins. you have no idea... but I will smile at you because I know you and, in all your ridiculous unconsciousness, you are familiar to me. and I know there is a speck of love in me for you - but it is fucking hard to chase it around because it keeps dashing away from me and hiding behind RAGE. so all I will do is tolerate your presence and try not to spew my venom at you while i wait for my plane to Paris to arrive tonight."
his face: who the fuck knows. I can guess from bits he said to me, but he's a compulsive liar. for real. he lies - a lot. just because it's more interesting than the truth to him, I suppose. I don't know. I'm guessing that he's thinking I look great (he said so). I'm guessing that he's thinking we should be together - it's just too bad I'm such an angry bitch and I won't take him back. I'm guessing he's thinking, "I'll tolerater her presence until her plane to Paris departs tonight".
healthy. UNhealthy. fucked. I hate it. because we could have been a powerhouse together. that was the plan.
and i have to end this entry now because it's starting to put me into a rotten mood again. 'til the next then...
