73 Days

Day 8 - Lemonade & Other Lemony Things

L E M O N A D E & O T H E R  L E M O N Y  T H I N G S

DAY 8

I don't know why I thought of you so much today, but I did. Maybe it was the taste of lemonade on my lips, reminding me of our lemon-themed inside jokes. Lemon squares...I will never get past that. Maybe it's the absurdity of it, or maybe it's just that it was our group's little thing. There's a special feeling that comes along with being so close to a person that you can communicate in your own little language. Hell, nobody knew what we were saying half the time. To be honest, I didn't really know what we were saying, either. I just knew it was funny, and I liked being with you, and I liked your laugh and your smile, so I just played along.

I remember, you would tell me about a girl you were in love with in seventh grade...and I was secretly a little jealous. You didn't go into details...but apparently there was one incident dealing with lemonade and sugar...and that's what fueled your fascination with lemons.

You went through a lot to track her down, huh? I found her...I know who she is... but you insisted that you couldn't find anything about her, even when you used a web crawler. She's quite pretty...I mean, she looks quite young and underdeveloped, but you did say you liked skinny girls...I didn't know you liked them quite that underdeveloped, though...ahah.

I guess I've always wanted to be the girl you desired...always. You know...I have a secret that I haven't told anybody. Remember that period of time when I dropped all that weight..and I stopped eating...and I basically developed an eating disorder? Well, I didn't just lose weight. I think I lost my fertility. My period is haphazard and irregular, and some months it doesn't come at all. The worst part is, I dropped all that weight thinking it would make you like me. I thought maybe, just maybe, I'd finally be what you desired. Well, first off, I was wrong. Second of all, I paid the ultimate price. You must wonder why I'm so obsessed with baby names...well, it's because I dream of having my own child, with a wonderful husband. That probably won't happen...who would marry an infertile woman? Certainly not you. Nobody in their right mind would. In the end, I wasn't an ounce prettier, you didn't love me any more than you did before (in fact, you probably loved me less), and I had my dreams shattered.

I tell you about my baby names all the time...and you always make fun of them. I try and defend them, of course, because I consider them unique and not...weird. I mean, come on, you wanted to name your baby "Mayonasé", You have an obsession with mayonaise, too... and you say I'm odd...

I remember  the last night I ever talked to you, and while I was defending my "outrageous" baby names you said:

"Well, hopefully you'll be ready when the time comes."

You didn't know it, but that hurt me very deeply, I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I know you don't know about my fertility, so I can't get mad at you for it...but just thinking about how that time will never come makes me want to curl up and die. I'm crying as I write this, thinking about the baby I'll never get to have. It's too much to deal with...and everytime I think about it, I want to just die. I guess that's one of my underlying problems...struggling with the fact that I might not be able to reproduce. I guess that's what generates some of my animosity towards you and the girls you find attractive. Not only am I jealous of them because they managed to capture your heart when I could not, but I'm jealous because I gave up so much in an effort to be the girl you wanted to love...and all they have to do is be there, and you're instantly enthralled by them. That hurts. I know you don't know what I gave up...but God, sometimes I wish you did. Even if knowing that you played a hand in the loss of my fertility hurt you...maybe then you'd understand some of the reasons I acted the way I did...