Four Hundred Forty One.
This morning I finished the process I started yesterday of re-categorizing all of my 2,254 entries here. I added the new ‘Jots’ category, and removed a few others that I felt could be compressed together.
I could probably do some additional compression, as the categories of ‘Blog, Journal, Sidenotes, and Jots’ are all fairly similar, but I feel there’s enough of a difference between those types of entries to warrant separate categorization. The same can also be said of the ‘Web, Code, and Tech’ categories, similar, but also distinctly different. I suppose my main driving force was that I didn’t want any entries that vaguely journal-like to be within that particular category.
I’ve had a category named ‘thepast’ for rather a long time, but I finally moved all the entries that should have been there. This particular category covers posts that discuss Davey, if you weren’t aware. There are 441 entries in ‘thepast,’ roughly twenty percent of my entries deal with him. Part of that I find a little shocking, but when you take into consideration the length of time we were together it does seem reasonable.
It was somewhat traumatic to actually read through all of those entries. I did my best to simply skim and categorize, but I found myself just reading through them anyway. The range is interesting and predictable; just getting to know him, being totally in love, breaking up, anger, sadness, and finally to where I feel now.
How I feel about Davey now is difficult to explain. During the summer we started talking to each other again, which is when he made his apology. It didn’t last too long, for reasons unknown to me, he simply vanished from the face of the planet. I assume he’s alright, but I’m just at a point where he knows that I’d talk with him (or should), and any effort to do that resides with him. I was worried about him for a while, but whatever the circumstances are I have no control over it.
He is no longer the person I was in love with, nor am I the same person. I do love him, still, but that particular future will never occur; it is the past. I do want to see him, spend a weekend together or something of that sort just to, I’m not sure why actually, but that is unlikely to ever occur. I suppose the part of me that wants to see him is the part of me that still misses him, I accept that it’s okay to miss him from time to time.