Wednesday, June 24, 2009
A shitty day creates decent writing, I hope
To spend a lifetime unloved: locked apart from existence, your nose pressed against that glass, watching. This isn’t just missing out on the warm fuzzies: holding hands over dinner, embracing in a hotel room, laughing together. You’re also missing the screaming matches, the fuck-yous, the silences that stretch like toxic taffy. You’re missing the brawling and the boring, the commitment that lies on the shoulders as a blanket, light one moment, stifling the next, sustaining in all moments. You are frigid. You are forgotten.
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2 comments:
My heart goes out to you. And you are absolutely right about the fact that love puts us in a position to be hurt. I hope things are better today than they were yesterday.
Hey, I really appreciate that. They're already looking up. A walk around the lake and some excellent Thai food (Champa Garden, worth the trip to East Oakland) did wonders.
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