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Because, you see, I am indeed selfish as you always point out. You bring me memories of vagrant verdant summers and cookouts and peace and comeraderie.
Oh the conversations we've had and the arguements and the stuff.
I cried several times this weekend at the loss of you. You remdinded me of what was gone and reminded me that it is just me and that the universe or what have you is parsing down many things upon which I had previously relied. I use mirror, ego breaker, friend, best friend to describe you. My new life here - seen through your eyes - is better; however, I wish so fervently that you could have been OK and joined my small and smaller coterie of humans.
I almost cried upon getting out of my car to trudge up the necessary alley to enter work. Sure, I almost always feel forlorn on mondays at 'the job', but I miss having you here. It's hard to tell you what you represent - but it's such a strong thing. You are the baby time - the past - my prescious prescious past. (when I was pulling back the gates, I noticed an 'ashes and snow' ticket and smiled at the wink and irony).
I know it is better for you and me for you to not live here. It doesn't fit you, and I realize it every time you are here. It's like an atmospheric poison, and you watch teevee and get stoned and asian-eyed.
I had warned you before you came that we would be working and that we were both in a very tender and some would say depressed state. I even dreaded your visit a bit - having to entertain you on my own and wondering what to do. I was tired most of your visit. I would come to see you, and it would be dark and you would have done nothing all day but surf the internet and walk a bit. I would be tired and glad to sit with you and watch 'lord of the rings'.
Inside I would panic - knowing that it was all lost - that I couldn't recapture that sunny day and comeraderie. It was/is days before my divorce.
I am so very frightened. It was so very nice to have you here. It was so very hard to have you here. (I am crying right now - at work - my boss is not yet awake -although my lover thinks it the cessation of smoking that brings tears more readily).
It comes and goes. I keep thinking of spring in the south and budding trees and those bulbed flowers. I think how I had thought I had the world on a string, but I was intensely bored with many things unless I made myself OK with it. Ah youth. Ah lonliness.
When you were there with mark and I - it pointed out how we are/were. I remember my fundamental irritation with him... my fear/paranoia that he always whittled at my psyche with tiny frequent remarks (I monickered it the devil's advocate).
But the thing that makes me so sad is that I love you both. I think of you as my best friends and the dynamic is off. I have a barrier. I can't be real, and I heartily wish that you had just lived next door my whole life.
Now back to work and the distractions it will bring and the sobs without relief of a fag.
Farewell my friend.
(after you left I felt horrible and responsible and so regretful that I couldn't be what you expected.)
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