i’ll just keep on writing

i’ll just keep writing, scribbling down words cryptic and illegible into pocket notebooks like i’ve been doing for decades.

tapping on keys at 3:13am an early wednesday april the 2nd.  the year is 2014.  a woody allen documentary streaming on netflix is playing on the tv.  scarlett johanson is talking about shooting a scene in the rain from “match point”.  i’ve watched both parts of the documentary 2nite checking my phone for instagram and twitter.  i still hunt the posts you like.  look at your profile everyday.  i miss you like crazy.  that has not wavered.  i love you like crazy.  that has not wavered.  i dream about you every night.  we are together again.  i wake up alone.

i finished my expenses 2nite from 2013 they reminded me of the times we used to spend together.  going out to dinner.  going to disneyland, going to the movies.  now they are numbers on a page, a text edit document getting copied and pasted into an email and saved as .pdf to be sent to an accountant in boston.

those times are gone.  those times are over.  i am alone.  in a new apartment that i haven’t even lived in for a month yet.  in the same apartment complex that i lived in for 11 years before we moved in together.  and then you moved out.  i loved living with you in that place, our home.  it was such a happy home.  and i was so happy.  but why didn’t i act like it.  why didn’t i appreciate it?  why didn’t i make love to you in every room and be grateful for all that you did?  why was i so impatient?  why was i so angry?  what was it?  was i not as happy as the memory now seems.  have i forgotten the moments in a revisionist history where you are jesus and i’m judas.  how did it all go down and why?  was it facebook?  technology?  addiction?  lust?  habit?

all these questions, the answers don’t matter.  you are gone.  and probably never coming back unless something miraculous happens.  i do believe in miracles.  but by then maybe i’ll have moved on.  maybe you have already moved on.  we can’t talk.  can’t communicate.  i wanna email you, i wanna text you, i wanna hear your voice.  but you told me not to.  so i will honor that request.  i’m a good guy.  i really am.  sweet.  vulnerable.  romantic.  i lost my way.  i’m sad without you.  i don’t go out very much.   nobody calls.  nobody texts.  i am here.  with my words, my scribble, my books and my movies.  i’ve stopped smoking weed.  i exercise a lot.  meditate.  prostrate.  definitely masterbate.  but you’re gone.  and that makes me so sad.  cuz i hurt you so much and i’ll never be able to heal that.  those scars, those wounds, my actions are written in the book forever and ever.  it was yom kippur.  god punished me.  i deserved it.

but i’m here now.  still.  stronger.  older.  bolder.  sadder.  alone.  i get hints of what it feels to be happy again.  hints of life and vitality.  i still  have dreams.  but you haunt them.

Comments are closed.