Monday, May 12, 2003
farewell and goodnight
sometimes i get that feeling that things are too full. that i feel something that i shouldn't -- something that makes me a bit guilty. something like holding hands and staring a little too long in the wrong direction. you're right nothing really is different. i'm not sure where i'm at. i can't see over the hill. i want to and maybe i'm trying to see the future for what i want instead of what it is.
i knew the first time that i saw him that there was something there. i remember trying so hard to be smooth and hoping that i would see him again. that ride on that subway meant something. i remembered everything he said. i remember those blue eyes like yesterday. they were bottomless -- ocean mixed with coal. so dark that something sinister had to be there. something was hiding behind those doorways. i wanted to be let in and i knew it was something different because he acted different. we talked right away. that first word: hey or hello or hi or something. i remember feeling ecstatic. some electricity moving down my fingertips hoping that i wouldn't mess it up. each step thought out. each thing written out. i'd done it before but nothing seemed to be working. certainly, we talked and we found something in common. i was his guide. i didn't have any idea what i was doing but i guess i would figure something out for him. i had plenty of chances to be familiar. it's distracting how many times i fail.
our first meeting again. i remember showing up early and he's still not there. and glancing at my watch and he's still not there. he apologizes and his sparkle and he's hair and his eyes are the parts that are alive. i like when he takes off his hat in the T because he reminds me of the artist i would find out that he is. it's funny how you find out how people are talented. you can't always find it in their eyes at first but then it seems so obvious that it was always there. he's left-handed -- i should have known. i should have known.
i remember him being interested in a disinterested way and how he likes to get things done. he's ambitious in the most laid back way. his spontaniety enlightening my own. i didn't have any but i could use some. i liked how we thought alike and that he was a lot smarter than i was, even though he was three years younger. he was a complete jerk but in a way that was so kind that it was hard to be mad. he would change his mind so often that i got lost. i didn't know which direction things were headed. he said no but at least he was nice about it. and it didn't just stop there. it kept happening. it's like when you are the amusement park and on the ferris wheel and seeing all those things in a new way. heights do that to me. they make me think because i hate them so much. but once i'm up there it's alright. i begin to understand and i think this is all going to end soon and how disappointing that will be. and just as i think we are coming to a stop, things keep turning. and that's how it was with us. we kept turning and things just kept getting better.
i liked being disinterested. i liked how he started conversations and that he always had some encouragement in himself for me. and that when i left up something sad he would read it and help me. in his way, somehow. how he cared. how he was so charming that really i couldn't like him. how he always paid and that i always felt bad about it. one night i wished i had made a move. one night lying in bed we touched hands and instead of 123...it was 123456789...and then let go, fade. and he would touch me "accidentally" and he would make me soup. i didn't do a thing but he didn't complain. and the bed was hot but he didn't say anything. and his face in mine and me leaning over him to use the light of the TV to light my watch. "that works." and me wishing i had never left. i had made that move. that it had been right.
i remember our first hug because we only had two and how i didn't know how to feel about it. i was just one of his girl friends. just another one. nothing special. then he was always a bit more careful about it. he didn't do it again and i felt sad about that. we always spent the night again together and i remember thinking that i didn't care about what anyone said anymore. i just wanted to be there with him. it was one of those nights where i didn't want it to end. but it did. like always.
it always ends and sometimes the endings leave me craving more so he must be doing something right. i always want more and each time he makes me want to write more. it doesn't matter what he does. what he wears. each night a new set of words. each night a new set of quotes that i wish i had written down. i wish i had gone with him. just for that last time. that last trip. that last adventure. i know it's not our last but sometimes things seem final.
¶ 11:09 PM
|
sometimes i get that feeling that things are too full. that i feel something that i shouldn't -- something that makes me a bit guilty. something like holding hands and staring a little too long in the wrong direction. you're right nothing really is different. i'm not sure where i'm at. i can't see over the hill. i want to and maybe i'm trying to see the future for what i want instead of what it is.
i knew the first time that i saw him that there was something there. i remember trying so hard to be smooth and hoping that i would see him again. that ride on that subway meant something. i remembered everything he said. i remember those blue eyes like yesterday. they were bottomless -- ocean mixed with coal. so dark that something sinister had to be there. something was hiding behind those doorways. i wanted to be let in and i knew it was something different because he acted different. we talked right away. that first word: hey or hello or hi or something. i remember feeling ecstatic. some electricity moving down my fingertips hoping that i wouldn't mess it up. each step thought out. each thing written out. i'd done it before but nothing seemed to be working. certainly, we talked and we found something in common. i was his guide. i didn't have any idea what i was doing but i guess i would figure something out for him. i had plenty of chances to be familiar. it's distracting how many times i fail.
our first meeting again. i remember showing up early and he's still not there. and glancing at my watch and he's still not there. he apologizes and his sparkle and he's hair and his eyes are the parts that are alive. i like when he takes off his hat in the T because he reminds me of the artist i would find out that he is. it's funny how you find out how people are talented. you can't always find it in their eyes at first but then it seems so obvious that it was always there. he's left-handed -- i should have known. i should have known.
i remember him being interested in a disinterested way and how he likes to get things done. he's ambitious in the most laid back way. his spontaniety enlightening my own. i didn't have any but i could use some. i liked how we thought alike and that he was a lot smarter than i was, even though he was three years younger. he was a complete jerk but in a way that was so kind that it was hard to be mad. he would change his mind so often that i got lost. i didn't know which direction things were headed. he said no but at least he was nice about it. and it didn't just stop there. it kept happening. it's like when you are the amusement park and on the ferris wheel and seeing all those things in a new way. heights do that to me. they make me think because i hate them so much. but once i'm up there it's alright. i begin to understand and i think this is all going to end soon and how disappointing that will be. and just as i think we are coming to a stop, things keep turning. and that's how it was with us. we kept turning and things just kept getting better.
i liked being disinterested. i liked how he started conversations and that he always had some encouragement in himself for me. and that when i left up something sad he would read it and help me. in his way, somehow. how he cared. how he was so charming that really i couldn't like him. how he always paid and that i always felt bad about it. one night i wished i had made a move. one night lying in bed we touched hands and instead of 123...it was 123456789...and then let go, fade. and he would touch me "accidentally" and he would make me soup. i didn't do a thing but he didn't complain. and the bed was hot but he didn't say anything. and his face in mine and me leaning over him to use the light of the TV to light my watch. "that works." and me wishing i had never left. i had made that move. that it had been right.
i remember our first hug because we only had two and how i didn't know how to feel about it. i was just one of his girl friends. just another one. nothing special. then he was always a bit more careful about it. he didn't do it again and i felt sad about that. we always spent the night again together and i remember thinking that i didn't care about what anyone said anymore. i just wanted to be there with him. it was one of those nights where i didn't want it to end. but it did. like always.
it always ends and sometimes the endings leave me craving more so he must be doing something right. i always want more and each time he makes me want to write more. it doesn't matter what he does. what he wears. each night a new set of words. each night a new set of quotes that i wish i had written down. i wish i had gone with him. just for that last time. that last trip. that last adventure. i know it's not our last but sometimes things seem final.
¶ 11:09 PM
|
