I'm having a bad week. There is, unexpectedly, a boy I could call.
I want to call and ask him to say something nice, something comforting, something that will give me that stupid grin I get whenever I talk to him.
I know that I can call and say this. I know I could send an email right now that says, "This week is bad. Please reply and say something nice," and he will, and I will feel better.
But if I do, what is that? Underneath, as sad and cliched as it is, I'm scared to death of counting on someone to be there, even just for now, even just in this moment. Even for something as ultimately small as this email would be.
I ask my friends for help. Sometimes. Admittedly, I'm not good at it, but I recognize the need to do it, and the value of it. What makes this different? What's different is that this is a boy, and this is a boy I could like and like a lot. This is scary and uncharted and it's something I'm not ready to face.
So I'm staring into the computer screen at my email draft, I wondered if it's more pathetic to hit "send" or to stubbornly refuse this little thing.
I usually do a pretty good job of pretending this divorce hasn't damaged me.