05.05.2010 - 11:42 p.m.

Instead, what I found was a Xanga belonging to Stevie. I discovered this little "journal" of her's, as I sat in the office where I worked 10 feet from her. My eyes immediately picked up certain words. I read every entry in moments, my stomach and blood churning at the same time. I started crying and gagging. I told my boss I was sick and had to leave. I ran to my car, got in, and screamed for several solid minutes. I screamed and pounded the steering wheel as the strongest anger I've ever felt overcame me. I tried to talk myself out of it, but drove to Sheri's end of the auction and sat in the car staring at the building, weighing the outcomes of my future actions. Should I let it go? Just go home and freak out there? I knew the answer was going to be no. After screaming more, I weakly climbed out of the car and walked in to find her. Needless to say, she wasn't pleased I came into her work and pretty much had a very public aneurysm. I don't really remember anything after this. She swore it was completely untrue, that it had been planted for me to find.

I found this journal 4 years after it had been written. I didn't believe Sheri then as she swore none of it happened, and to be honest, I don't now. There's nothing she can do about it, nor do I expect her to. It's my problem. I knew Stevie. I knew her too well. And while she fabricated lies more consistently than not, they were always half-truths. Always. There was always at least some kernel of truth in everything she said, even if it was surrounded by the black webs she weaves so well that she herself is lost in them.

If this was meant to be found, it's the worst job I've ever seen. All she had to do was e-mail it to me or to Chrissy, or at least make it easier to find when searching. That fateful day when I found it was not the first time I'd done such a thing. I prowl the internet all the time. Some sick satisfaction I get in dismantling the reality of my life, I suppose. The same conclusion which landed me there again, tonight. Looking for trouble. I never forget and I don't easily let go. The mere suggestion of those words being even a little true would equal the end of this relationship. Which is a very good reason not to tell the truth about it, though this would make it infinitely worse. They disturb me so, because I've been in this relationship for over 5 years. We have a house, we're trying to have a baby, both of our families are involved in our lives. And also, because while I've been unfaithful in other relationships, there hasn't been a single day I've been unfaithful in this one. Those words of Stevie's were written after Sheri and I became an official couple. Beyond this, Sheri insists they hadn't had sex or even slept together in a very long time. I've always found this hard to be true (I'm an extreme realist, what can I say?). I guess I'm too capable of seeing why she would fuck her current partner of 8 (7, whatever) years, to either satisfy her own needs or to just fuck with Stevie (and/or me, for being with Stevie first). Had Sheri never insisted they did not have sex in recent history, then she would have been free to have sex with Stevie up until February 14, 2005 when we promised ourselves to each other.

I have no way of ever knowing where the truth lies. I wasn't there. I was many miles away, living on a promise, and the hope that I wouldn't be destroyed again. And if you're wondering, yes, I do care now even if she has been completely faithful since Stevie's last entries in her "special place." A lie of such disastrous proportions has no time limit in my mind. I would throw everything we've built away, or really, Sheri would be throwing everything away by being dishonest and unfaithful, even 5 years past.

I don't know what I wanted to accomplish by writing this, but I know I won't ever be the same for the words Stevie wrote. Maybe she did plant it, and maybe she's winning by making me feel this way. But I no longer live to keep score with Stevie. I'm not afraid to say her name, not trying to hide, or be cryptic. I just know that I never wrote of this before, and "coincidentally" it was 5 years to the day of her last entry that I catapulted myself back into the same doubt and anger I was filled with on the day of discovering them. I'm not ready to let it go, and I may never be. I don't bring it up, ever. This is the first time since I've spoken (written) about it. I saved the words should the Xanga ever be deleted. I don't know why, but I'd rather have them to burn than to not have them at all.

I can't say I feel better. But I'm slightly less likely to do something people prefer I don't.

But god, how I want to.