2 October—I am eight days away from my one-year quit smoking date! I don’t think I’d recognize the girl I was a year ago. Struggling. Smoking. In between two men. Still in love with C, having wild sex with BM. Tired of yo-yoing between the both and polluting my system with bad boyfriends. I was a bizarre person. I remember reading He’s Just Not That Into You, right around that time, which, as stupid as the book is, it was a huge wake up call for me. And yet, here I am again. Not so far off from that confused girl in the book who needs to be hit over the head with a frying pan. Oh, love addiction.

I went through my closets yesterday and tossed out five massive bags of old clothes. Stuff I haven’t worn in years and old 80’s sweaters of my mom’s that I ended up with and don’t particularly want. I definitely made space, but not quite as much as I had hoped. It’s like, P and I have one good day and I start to dream again. Dream of his clothes filling these closets. And so, I’ve Feng shui ‘ed  the heck out of my bedroom in hopes the energy transforms this disorderly relationship.

R is taking the kids tonight so, I am going to try to sleep over P’s. Heck, yes, I am inviting myself over. We’ve been together seven months. Haven’t I won that privilege? I should hope so, because if not, there’s no hope for us. As far as I am concerned, this is my make it or break it moment. That kiss last night told me something. It spoke to me. It said, Tracy, you deserve this kind of love. Whether it’s from him or not, I don’t know. Whether he is willing to give it to me or not is the question I want answered. And of course, now that I said that, I’ll probably end up getting my period, or he’ll want to go to sleep early.

Something will mess up this night. Oh, but I must keep dreaming…

So, no amount of perfume is enough. Red lipstick, draw your lines across my lips. Eyes, widen with girlish hope and thick black mascara. Dress, flutter across my longing limbs and famished torso. Tonight, I will have my answer.