an amusing interlude

commitment in your twenties is co-purchasing a litre of (high quality! expensive! amazing! silicone) lube ;)

how to give all of yourself

I'm back from South America. I've been back for almost three months now. It seems like a lot longer - the days are winding and I have only a few responsibilities. Sometimes I feel a little cloistered, and my lack of job is pressing upon me. It's Easter; sometimes I feel a little abandoned around major holidays. Timing is everything: on another day, this email wouldn't have made me pause, even for a moment. Today, I feel compelled to write a little.

It is, of course, from the Translator.

"This morning I listened to Edward Sharpe's "Home" for the first time in a year. I would rather not have--it's the one song I still make a point of avoiding--but it came on my Spotify while I was in the shower, so I didn't have much of a choice.

And I was fine. My world didn't collapse at the thought that you weren't in it anymore.

2012 was the worst year of my life. Losing you almost destroyed me. I spent enough of the summer, fall, and early winter thinking about killing myself that I was scared I would never get better.

But I got help, and now I'm better. I take much better care of myself, I'm seeing someone who is very nice and emotionally stable, and I wake up most days excited to see what kind of mischief I can get up to. 

I don't know if I'll ever want to talk to you again. I don't mean that in the sense that I'll never want to talk to you again. I mean it in its literal sense: I don't know, because I don't know what I'll feel if we ever talk again.

That last line you wrote ("Do not call . . . do not write . . .") is going to take a very long time to unstick from my craw. That hurt me more than anything else. I spent so much time being angry at you. On occasion I still am. I know you were doing what you felt was best for you, but I'm a sensitive, emotional person, and it will be very hard to forgive you for how you ended things between us.

It may be that by the time that anger's gone that you'll just be someone who passed through my life whom I no longer have any desire to know, or it could be that you'll still be someone whom I'm proud to have as a friend. I don't know.

And you were right. I am an emotional werewolf, and I am not a particularly constant person, at least in the conventional sense of the word. I just need to build a life where those qualities are advantages rather than disadvantages. It's an ongoing process.

Regardless, happy Easter. I hope you're well. I think I attached the wrong Ryan Adams song last time I wrote you. The one that's attached now is probably closer to the mark as to how I really felt."

As loathe as I am to give any more time to him, this one pushed a couple of buttons I forgot were there. I think, most of all, I marvel at how we all write revisionist history; how after a year - christ, a WHOLE YEAR, he can still produce drivel like this. I record this here to remind myself how very, very stupid I was once. 

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Some days I am in conflict with D. Some days (like today, and yesterday), I think he is a little selfish in some regards, and that we fight much more these days. But I know him, I know us, and we will prevail. I love him. He loves me. It is enough.