Never Too Late

I just saw the Sex and the City movie. Yes, yes. I know. I'm so late. I can't remember the reason why I never saw it when it came out. I was such a big fan of the show though. What I don't get after watching it was, how come no one told me how good the movie was? I also thought though, that maybe I was meant to see the movie at this point in my life. A lot of it hit home and I wept like an idiot. It's 4:30am and I feel like writing down how jealous I was of Carrie when she had her friends when she hit rock bottom. The expression on Charlotte's face when Big tried to chase after Carrie on the street that wedding day was pure gold. Niki, I saw you in that scene. To have them take care of her the way they did when she didn't want to eat or move. To have friends to remove the rose petals from her honeymoon bed and to tell the hotel staff to stop with the honeymoon stuff, to feed her and make her laugh and protect her. She was able to wallow in delicious misery knowing they were there to take care of her. I wish I had that. It only brought to light the fact that I had not had that opportunity to do so. From the day I found out about my own situation, I have had to deal with it with my chin held high trying to show everyone I was okay. I need to drown in my own misery. I need to scream. I need to wail. I need to let it go so that I can laugh without having to wonder how I'm going to sleep at night. I need to get my drive to move forward, back. Bea said I may be jobless, but I managed to make it a job to drink and party myself in an effort to avoid the unavoidable. It hasn't been long but it's time for me to do something now. I wish I was surrounded by my own gang of Charlottes, Mirandas and Samanthas. Every one has their own lives now and I had to do this on my own. My friends cried for me, or rather with me. Even Jammi's mom cried for me. It's all been great but I wish someone was here now. I can't remember the last time I needed a hug so bad.

I'm slightly going nuts. Tomorrow, I face the man I had considered the love of my life. How did I get to this place? I don't know how I'm supposed to look at him anymore. I thought it was going to be easy. I'm supposed to be the master of facades. I've done it all my life. I'm always okay, never letting anyone see me cry. I'm supposed to be able to do this. Part of me is relieved he will only be around for a few hours and I've surrendered the fact that I've lost this one.

I am anxious for the day I get to look back at this and smile. The day I reread my old posts and stumble upon this one and laugh. Remembering myself sitting here in a tear-soiled shirt, swollen eyes, a runny nose, surrounded by tissues and everything I own in half packed luggages. Like what most people have told me, it will happen again. I have not closed my doors on the possibility of being happy again.