Spent the day depressed.
And lost. Going down imaginary
rabbit holes. Did not realize how much I’d… it makes sense though. 2 years.
All those words. I’m well, I’m
well. Felt like a totally different
person. looked like a totally different
person. need to finish the book . he could
barely look at her. I don’t miss those days at all, that’s for sure. Laugh seems different. The way she talks sounds different. I love being home. I’m just going to skirt back home to my
bed. He can’t look at her. skin is different. Lips are different. The person he knew, he imagined or doesn’t exist
anymore. need to finish the book. I’m an embarrassment. Nobody likes me. reaching out to people
now. was she happy to see him? Did it matter to her? was she sneaking glances at him like he was
at her? how does she see mw now? hoping our glances might casually meet. Bad karaoke soundtracking this moment. I want it that way. Who we were doesn’t exist anymore. “I’m not me anymore.” I wish I could be the me that she knew. her laugh suddenly sounds the same. lovely.
I wish we were fucked up all the time again. Chasing highs and lows. Closing out the bar where we were the only
light in the place. And where I texted
you when I made it home because cared about me.
“you are so fucking funny. I almost
forgot how fucking funny you are.” is
she on meds? As he walked out the door
he hoped she would follow him but she didn’t.
he looked behind him to check. So
pathetic. Maybe he should have
waved. He wanted to order more drinks to
be in your orbit for a little while longer.
But he knew that wasn’t a good idea.
So he left. And now I’m
home. And he’s missing her all over
again. Missing you more than ever. After midnight. Epilogue: “That wasn’t my BLANK. What’s happened?” neither one of them went for a hug. The space is more than years. Now I’m spinning and feel more confused than
ever. He doesn’t think there was
anything in her eyes for him. And that’s
okay. maybe I can get her addicted
again. I feel like a sickness. Not that I am sick. I feel like I am a sickness. He is confused and hurt. I should not have seen you again. I’m a fucking mess. I feelt all sorts of confused things. truly madly deeply. Why did I want to see you again?! I should have reacted better and more supportive. He wants her to be happy. She’s young.
She can and will be happy. “MAYBE
THAT FUCKED ME UP MUCH MORE THAN YOU’LL EVER KNOW!!!” lost afterward. Spiraling.
Feeling something he completely forgot.
That particular pain of a specific kind of loss. Why only hitting now? the mythologizing and the processing and the
hundreds of thousands of words. Yes, it
was processing but it was also mythologizing and it was keeping something alive
that doesn’t exist anymore. this is the
reality. Like a car accident in Los Angeles.
New songs now. ruiner. There’s something in my eye. Was sitting next to a curvy sexy woman last night
who was just crammed into a tiny little red and black dress. I kept trying to steal glances at her feet
and her gorgeous thunder thighs. She smelled
like sweat but I liked that. had to flee. You and yet not you. “quivering joyless grin.” Of course now he remembers that there was always
a different version projected outward,
always for the audience. But that
version is perhaps no less real. Who’s
to say that isn’t the real one and the more plaintive intimate and despondent
one is actually more of the performance?
Of course, I think as my head goes light, how utterly proper. headspace afterward for days included bouts of
sadness, loss and depression. Was taking
a walk through in the blistering heat when he realized actual closure may be
quite impossible because there is no scenario he can imagine which would
actually satisfy such a need . it will just keep reborn and reborn. Answers and explanations will continue to be
sought, anything that does not fit in properly will be discarded or distorted
and rewritten which will only guarantee that the cycle will continue and that
the obsession will never end. I am
screaming and my face is distorting and distending. It happens outside. Funny how secrets…. What was the name of the first in the
cycle? Closer. Is this anyway like that except completely
bereft of talent? Oh Vienna. Something feels plastic and angular right
now. when I remember it perhaps I will
remember it with a lot of solid neon colors.
Feeling cool and icy. A certain
element of glamour. Only real element
out of place being yours falsely. But the
distortions are already taking place. Good
thing I don’t own a video camera though I do own a saxophone but cannot play it
(I was told that the solo in sorrow would be an easy beginner one to tackle). One was sitting looking straight ahead, the
beer that was being nursed was now being downed. Or was it? the more I learn the less I want
to know. I don’t think it actually was a
beer. I think it was actually a tall gin
and tonic, ice, I had not asked for a tall but I was given a tall and I was
trying to down it. someone else was
sitting at an angle. Again, everything
in those neon colors. Is neon
right? I don’t think so. It was more like hues of blue and
purple. Or offshoots of those colors,
maybe more like teal or turquoise or fuchsia or magenta. And always some cool white somehow mixed on
that pallet so that everyone looked just a bit ethereal. Or maybe only one person did. what will be rewritten: who was looking at
who. One or both? One or both?
One or both? Will be remain as one
and then at some point it will be rewritten as they were both stealing glances
at one another and the scene shall remain like that always.
