It is incomprehensible to me that merely one — one!! — Friday ago, TC and I were sitting all by our lonesome in Eglise Notre Dame Des Champs.

Our private, rockstar viewing. Of the Gothic choir sort.

I’ve got to stop this form of self torture. I’m not sure how much more I can take and living life in reverse, no matter how temporarily, never seems to serve all that much of a positive purpose for me.

But it’s a hard, hard thing to do — this present moment stuff. GD you, Tolle. How the F am I supposed to be all, loving this moment, when what I’m really thinking is, how the hell am I not still in France?!

In the last eight and a half months, I’ve spent almost two months worth of time in Paris. I can’t just exorcise that out of my being. Wouldn’t that be nice though? Some priest spraying me down with holy water while I scream Paris out of me and then bam! Just like that, it’s over and done with. Never to be thought of again.

Paris is the other man. I’m sure The BF is well aware that this is his one true competition to my heart. Just as I am fully aware of how disturbed I am. Well sort of, because JC, it’s Paris, people.

I mean, maybe if I were talking about somewhere … say … like … Phoenix {not that there’s anything wrong with Phoenix!}. Then I’d understand if people were shit talking about why the hell I was all over Phoenix’s hot air.

But Paris? What’s there to shit talk about Paris? Please don’t actually answer that question. My fragile psyche is in no way capable of handling negative criticism.

Here’s hoping that tomorrow the self afflicted suffering has subsided … somewhat. But you know, not completely, because I wouldn’t want my beholden to think I was completely over him so soon. Especially not after all of our romantic strolls on those cobblestone streets.

Le sigh.