Imagination

After all this and what Philippe told me, I still find it impossible to believe that the bitch of his wife is coming back, though I must accept it. It is the price I’m having to pay for what I did to Steven, or my luck, or both, I don’t know. IT is a pain that I can’t express, especially here in this house, I still have to smile at my mom and play with my little sister, and I still have to talk to them when they talk to me.
After those few nights of crying and praying, I am beginning to resign myself to love him only in my dreams, in secret, and that it was only an illusion, nobody will ever really love me and if someone did, it would be Steven. If only he would forgive me, take me back, tell me that all the hurt is over and that we can start fresh again. But it would be too unfair of me if I asked him to be like he was before or even to forgive me, because I know that even if we were back together nothing would be the same.
I spent part of the afternoon going swimming with my little sister even though I didn’t feel like it, and while I was in the water with her I would imagine Philippe holding me and I would take my little sister in my arms as I wished Philippe was holding me, and when I lay back on the water and stayed afloat, I imagined Philippe holding me and telling me: “we’re flying, reach out”, as he did when we were in the pool, and I said: “I’m reaching for the stars”. Then he would say, “you got one?, and I would reply, “I got two,
One for me and one for you”.
Everytime I visit my mom’s gardin, I imagine Philippe walking beside me, and putting a flower on my hair, caressing it gently, softly and tenderly like he did when he took me back home.
In my dreams I would lie next to him, be in his arms, kiss him, hug him, and even listen to him play the guitar like he did when we first met, and then everything would start all over again.
I often dream about my lucky night, and sometimes I can imagine him with me even if I’m not awake.
I tried to stop talking to him on the phone, but I have an odd feeling that I just can’t or I’ll miss him even more, so we still talk every night.
Yesterday he said he was praying for me in the sailboat, and I was just so amazed that even if he lied he would do something like that.
What I also do a lot, is fake smiles. I don’t really feellike smiling at anyone, not even to myself, but I do it for my family, and it’s becoming a little harder each day, so much so, thatI’m afraid that mom would notice that something else is going on now and ask me what it is. No way, if I tell mom,then she would surely tell me to stay here for good, not just offer.
I haven’t talked to Philippe last night,only once before I went swimming with my little sister, so I miss him even more now as if I haven’t seen him in years. What would happen if I see him again?, I wonder, as I lie on my bed, in this lonely room, if I had to be his friend,
that’ll bee all right with me in fact, but I don’t ever want to meet his wife, I don’t ever want to talk to her, to get to know her, or have anything to do with her, no, I would die, I would faint, or run, or scream, but I could not do it.
I think the saddest, but safest choice I have would be to stay here, though as I heard my dad and my big sister arguing when my dad was helping my little sister and I to get off the pool, sometimes the idea of staying here seems a little scary and very depressing.
So I spend long hours in my room most of the time, just as I did today, relying on my imagination as the only way for me to feel closer to him, and hope that time would heal my wounded heart.

With shattered hopes, H I L.
There must be some way out of this.