The Great Failed Experiment

It is at least the second time he has been drunk and hasn't called me. I am laying here, wondering what to do with my entire life and he hasn't called. So I pick up the phone and call him. He is about to go to bed.

He used to call drunk and tell me he loved me. Tell me he couldn't live without me, now he drinks to forget me. ("A drunk mouth says what a sober mind thinks.") When I am drunk, all I can think about his him and when I can speak to him again. It drives me crazy, making me just want to sober up and erase my drunkenness because I have missed out on Ian. The feeling is not mutual, but (what can I say?), we are two very different people.

I can hear it in his voice when he says he loves me, that he too is doubting it with every second that goes by. Every time he tells me he loves me, it just burns because I feel as though it is no longer true. It's like hearing the worst lie imaginable.

I can appreciate him wanting to be there for his family. Yet, even though he said I was, I am not yet part of it.

I think he has a lot of stuff he needs to do in his life that does not involve me. Perhaps it is time I stopped holding him back and let him go do it.

With every second that goes by I can see that the dream of Ian setting foot on Creighton campus again is a lie I created to console myself these past few weeks. As his friend, especially as someone who regards him as the love of their life, I cannot let him do it.

My heart is breaking. . . I just don't even know what to say.

On Monday it was Darwin's birthday. Throughout it, I could not help but feel that Alfred R. Wallace probably rolls in his grave. Wallace was so close. If only Wallace had not sent his findings to Darwin, then he would be recognized as the "Father of Evolution" instead of Darwin.

I guess I just sent my findings to Darwin. Now what do I do with my life?