I’ve just sent a message to a very old friend from high school and college to ask if he remembered my original redheaded lover’s last name. I need to find him to ask him something I remember as truth. If my memory is wrong, it will rock my world, and not in a good way. I would bet money on my memory, but I need to know for sure.
I’m sitting in a WalMart parking lot after almost having another panic attack. I wish I weren’t such a drama queen. I really do find moments of joy even when I’m coming from a place of pain. I think it’s going to be a long time before I’m happy again. Now, it’s about survival from one minute to the next. That’s all.
I do, however, wish for another, younger, but not too young, redheaded wild man since I can’t have the man I want. The one I know is too young, but I must admit that I never would have clocked him as that young. Worse yet, he looks like Morgan. Oh well.