August 28, 1971 - How Can I Avoid It?

OK, so I cannot count on A. I can count on no one. Probably I should not ever want to or expect to be able to count on anyone. How can I avoid it? I lay down my book and through the tears I cannot hold back, I try to begin to understand what I must do. I am home early from the antique show with Mary & I am lonely, sad & bored. Whatever is the matter with me? I have the loveliness of Tchaikovsky's music entering my ears, I am physically comfortable on my own bed with a good book & my good friend & dog, Chalet.

A. said he will call tomorrow before noon but not to count on any hard & fast plans. I'd called him to suggest an early morning walk at the Arboretum but he has first some other things he must do before he will know. So I "cannot" even go out for the early morning walk I'd wanted because my hope & compulsion will not let me leave as long as I might hear from him. So I am compelled by myself to stay home til noon & not to make any other plans. All because I would rather be with him than doing anything else.

Ginger has joined us on the bed. She lies beautiful & stretched out, eyes closed & gorgeous. Callie walks in & jumps onto the open window sill behind the draperies & all is quiet & serene except for the stereo's classic tones & the cuckoo clock calling 10:00. So how can I help myself, free myself? I think I am me, I have no major problems. What can I dredge out of myself that will give me my own anchor so that I don't need someone else to hang onto, to anchor me? Would painting do it? It might. It's the only thing in thot that even remotely grabs me.

Oh, the power & the love & the beauty in that music is so much. It should be enough. It is - almost. I would like it to be enough. I would like to make it be enough. But then the knowledge comes to me that still there is & may always be that emptiness that open blank yearning space around me, near me, next to me that nothing but a man can fill, a man committed to me, something I'm rather sure I will never find. And so there is no answer.

This loneliness is a true ache. It sits full & heavy in my chest, compounded so greatly by memories & regrets, mostly regarding J., and by great strong wishes that things could return to what and as they once were but, of course, they cannot.