shy

That’s it. I have to do it. I’m afraid he’ll fucking kill me, but I have to visit Jon. Yes, the previous owner of the filly. The gun-owning drunk Jon. I’m also going to ignore the embarrassment of going in front of the barn girls. I’m going to ignore embarrassing Bonnie. I’m going to ignore Jen thinking I’m stupid. I have to do it.

 

GOD, I CAN’T FUCKING LIVE WITH THIS. I’ll have no choice if he doesn’t have her papers, or a location, or something. I’ll have to live with it. But I can’t live, thinking there’s something I might be able to do in order to find her. I’m too FUCKING SHY! GOD. If there is a divine force up there – God, Allah, Vishnu, or something else entirely – grant me strength. Grant me courage. Please, please let things go smoothly. Let me find my filly. Let her be safe. Let her remember me…. please. God, please! I’m begging you. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I need to know. I can’t always wonder. So… please. Please help me. I promise I’ll make an effort to have faith, and to keep up with my school, and defeat my procrastinating habits. Dear Lord/Allah/Vishnu/someone-else-entirely… I am begging you, help me find the love of my life, my filly, again.

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If anyone actually still reads this forgotten blog, I’d love to contact you. You can send me an email at frozen.smiles@live.com (I also have MSN, so if you’d rather talk via that, ask me for it). Hopefully some creepy 50-y/o man doesn’t contact me. But right now, I just need someone who understands this. I can’t let out all this angst and fear and grief to any of my friends. At this point, I’ve made it into a joke with Bonnie because of my accursed shyness, and to tell my other friends would make things… awkward. They don’t know this side of me; this side that wants to scream and die if I can’t see her (don’t worry, the “dying” is a very small, irrational part that’s always largely outvoted). Or, if they do, they haven’t told me.

 

TBK out.

written from my laptop, finished 9 49 AM [Tues, December 15, 2009]