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You were here four days ago. I just opened the door to the room I call "your room" and would have gone searching for hairs to keep, but that's for another day. I can barely breathe I am so scared that I will never see you again.
I have berated myself for every sentence I've ever sent you that deviated from the "Keep It Light" covenant I seemed to have been in.
I definitely put some weight on it.
More than anything, I wish I could know what you do, what you were thinking, if my fears were justified. Were you actively chatting up other women? Or did you just have the apps open so you wouldn't feel suffocated? When I called myself a Placeholder, and you agreed by not responding - was that just you indicating that calling me something real was too binding to you?
Your needs always seemed to outweigh mine.
I lasted five months and seventeen days before I broke my levy and sent you my literary perspective. I bet I'm not a great writer. I can't even get into SLackpole for fook's sake.
The sun is setting on this first day of the New Year. I'm going to try - and it will be the hardest thing I do - to not contact you for seven days. You probably won't even contact me when I finally do reach out, but I'll stretch any chance, follow any lead. I'm so hoping to not feel so acutely devastated soon. This has cost me a lot.
I remember you saying you were a cutter and a shoplifter and taught yourself to drive. You're the most caring intimate father I've encountered (but I've only known four or five) in my dating. I love the way you speak to them. I love that you send them pillows and let them take all the fishing gear.
Today is the first day I haven't wanted to get drunk... numb. I went to the Kroger and bought some more fucking cat food. Ah these cats have been all over me since I've been a food dealer.
The flock of buzzards or hawks still circle my neighborhood. The sun is peeking through the trees right now. I wasn't able to take down the Christmas decorations.
The fears I had were that you were already slipping away from me, but I was too afraid to ask you directly. You could have just been wanting a bit of space, but I picture you lining up dates and flirting with new blood and it makes mine boil.
Every time I brush my teeth I think of you.
Your candle is now an icon to me.
I've never gone this long without hearing from you since we've met. Are you relieved? are you so glad to be done with me? Or do you just need to have a think?
I think you know I love you. I think you know how scared I got. I would backpedal on anything to see you again. I don't care what you call me anymore.
Your loss has schooled me.
And the most likely outcome is that you don't bother blocking me, but you remain impervious and silent to my entreaties.
I fucked up Leon.
But I also must be kind to Narcissi. I was bursting at the dam to speak - not about light shit and tv and cooking and football and projects.
I wanted to reveal my heart.
Will you ever forgive me.
Again...
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