kerouac says

i had a meltdown about the wedding this morning, the morning he leaves for his summer stock job. it wasn't great timing. neither of us reacted well. the parting was awkward--besides from the awkward fact that there's a parting at all right now, when there's so much to do and so much of each other we need. just due to humanity and the law of averages, we seem sort of destined to disappoint each other a certain percentage of the time, and take a breath, and then keep going. and when leave-takings have proven exceptionally difficult for us in the past, maybe it isn't so surprising that this morning was a rough time.

the bad i felt this morning, saying the bad good by on thirty-third street in front of the post office, was the bad that you feel when you finally lay it out for the boyfriend who doesn't get it and he sees what you mean but can't fulfill, and so you break up. part of you is proud for saying, and the other is wildly flailing at having caused your own destruction, ready to cop to anything just to get the other person to turn back around and walk toward you. destruction is hyperbolic; no one is destroyed. but we are both unsure exactly whose lights we want to punch out in re: the frustration of this morning, when no one got what they needed then someone got on an airplane and the other one got on the A train. i said, i want to throw a temper tantrum. he said, please don't. i said, i'm not going to, i just want to.

you leaving-for-the-midwest, job-having, imperfect smartmouth. i am making a mean face on the inside, and my outsides are doing the kind of crying that's inappriopriate in public and waving at you as you take off for la guardia.

i'll skip the tantrum now for a blanket fort and some chocolate pudding. and maybe a nap. my eyes hurt.