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i am coping. that is all i can say these days when people ask how i am doing. i am not ok. i will be, one day. but, for now, i am coping.
i am hurting. i am missing him. he took part of my life with him. not with a bullet as he did his, but by taking me out of his.
my mother is angry that he made a decision that affected both of us without consulting me. but did he? he emailed me with his intentions. i did not respond.
my friends are angry because he hurt me. i have forgiven him. they must too. i don't want them to remember him as someone who hurt me, but someone who gave me much happiness in the time we had together.
i cannot help but play the "what if" and "if only" words. if i had answered his calls or emails...or taken his threat seriously, immediately. i will always carry some of the guilt. part of me thinks he intended me to.
but i think he is sorry. i think he knows how i felt...how i love him and how i miss him. that i would have come back. but he is in a place where you don't get another chance.
he was cremated today. i went to his house to see if the note i left his family was still on the door. i looked in the window. i should not have. i knew there would be blood. there was so much. am i sick to think that if i could have touched it, i would somehow touch him?
the coroner's tape is still on the door. his family will not come until Saturday.
i will go to the memorial service in atlanta Friday. i have been told by more than one friend to be prepared for his family to blame me. i am. we all need to blame someone for terrible things.
the police told me that even if i had gone back in time to save him, it would have happened next time.
i got a tattoo tonight over one of the bruises he left on my ass. it is a black infinity symbol with his initials in red under it. even when the bruise fades, i will never forget where it was just as i will never forget how he touched me inside and out.
i can't eat....i can't sleep. it is the complete reverse reasons of why i couldn't when we first met.
i am grateful to friends and family and even strangers who have offered me comfort and ears.



( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Aug. 8th, 2002 10:10 am (UTC)
My father committed suicide when I was sixteen, so I have some idea of that coping process you're going through. The only thing I can offer here is that, eventually, you do get to that place where you are okay, where the hurt and the questions, and the what ifs go away. I know we don't know each other very well, but if you ever need to talk....*shrug*
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )


don't fear death
melissa muses (or maia, you choose)


wandering does not make you a "gypsy."
why would you call yourself
after those who have no home?
long skirts and hoop earrings
do not make you a "gypsy."
why do you call yourself after
those who have no clothes?

"gypsy" is pejorative. please don't perpetuate the stereotype. educate yourself on what it really means to be a "gypsy" in this world.

Who are the Roma?

Decade of Roma Inclusion

Dženo Association

European Roma Rights Centre

Roma Balkans

Roma National Congress

Romani World



Rroma Media Network

Soros Roma Initiatives

Studii Romani

The European Union and Roma

The Patrin Webjournal: Romani Culture and History

Voice of Roma
World Bank Roma Initiatives

Have a Happy Day! :)

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