Friday, November 10, 2006

Never Quite Gets Better

I used to have this like totally awesome boyfriend called Danny. He was a screenwriter and a big goofball and he was incredibly annoying and amazing and supportive and wonderful. He died about a year before I started this blog. In fact I started this blog in particular because for the year and a day after he died I kept a private blog for him at zoetrope.com, in my office, where I would write to him every day and tell him stuff. But then I was supposed to let him go after the year and a day and not feed him anymore so I gave that blog up and started this one.

He's been dead for four and a half years now and sometimes I miss him so sharply it feels like it's been four minutes since he died. He loved my writing, in fact he said it was the reason I was born, specifically that my novel Carnal Fear was the entire reason I was put on this planet.

We were terribly wrapped up in each other. He lived in another city, New York, but he used to IM me all the time and we talked on the phone for hours and we spent the weekends and holidays together. The only time we weren't able to be at each other's beck and call electronically was a couple of weeks before he died when I was hospitalized with a blood clot. He was pretty frantic and worried about me, calling me all the time and running up a huge phone bill. Ironically he was the one who died shortly after.

We used to talk about our writing all the time and have these brainstorming sessions and plot our plots together. That's been one of the hardest things for me, not having that anymore. We absolutely relied on each other for feedback and guidance and whenever I want it I want it from him and I start longing for him and I get restless and check my email every few minutes, like he's going to write to me and give me advice, and my heart hurts every time the phone rings and it's not him.

I'm 110 double spaced pages into my NaNoWriMo book and I'm thinking about a non-fiction book I've been thinking about writing and I'm thinking about things I could do with Carnal Fear (which I can never seem to finish because it's so hard and he was so in love with it, how can I finish it without him being here to cheer me on or to be amazed by it? I can't.) and I miss him so badly that I'm sitting here on my bed, typing with tears just running down my cheeks and a big enough lump in my throat that I think it's going to choke me. Life is hard. That's all. It's just hard and it doesn't care how hard it is. We just have to deal with it. Or at least pretend to deal with it.

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