Life as an Extreme Sport


Feeling mixed today. Been keeping up on B~’s journal, in a large part because it clues me in to Mars’ moods, and keeps me in touch with that side of his life. Only there’s some debate now how much of a side that is; he sent her a confirmation of her worst fears yesterday, acknowledgement that they are no longer and shall never be a couple.

She wrote about that today in her journal, and referred to she and he as an Epic Love Story, and I admit to feeling quite a strong pang of “no, that is what he and I have, not what you two had – how dare you be so presumptuous!” … and then I have to stop and wonder how presumptuous I’m being.

Perhaps this is where I should fall back to the “you’ve got four years with him Kelly, and enough of a passionate story to fill a movie and its sequel…” It’s not so much that I’m at all worried about him and her, but it’s just the… attitude and belief? I guess I finally feel possessive; the Epic Love Story Involving Mars belongs to me. Me, me, me damnit, me! Not Michelle, not Amy, not Kate, not Rachel, and definately not B~ or anyone else. It’s mine.

I see her name, Amy, and realize how much of my current fear regarding B~ is morphing into the same fears with Amy; Amy was such a perfect love story for him, his ideal and dreams and hopes… and now I’m afraid that is what B~ is becoming. I can’t compete with those ideals, dreams, hopes… no matter how hard I want to, and no matter how hard I want to be them.

I am obviously tired and in need of more alcohol.