December 11th 2009
Email from me
I know… that you’ve not yet written back to my lengthy mail…. and I don’t mean to throw more words on the pile… but i’m thinking.
This is kinda long, and touches on sex and such, so don’t read it til you feel like really reading.
The split in our perspectives about things… about who we are to each other, and what that means… how your view is filled with the bond of friendship and sharing of words; while mine keeps roaming to the physical and sharing of bodies.
It isn’t that i don’t cherish the friendship. i don’t mean to lessen that. I can’t say enough, that you make more sense to me than anyone, and that with a few silly examples, I can’t think of much that I’d want to do, see, or otherwise experience with anyone besides you.
But where our focus goes, I figure, has a lot to do with who we are, and where our pain resides.
With both of us, I think, it’s about giving of ourselves, and about trust. For you, the trust of opening yourself up about yourself to someone and caring for someone is what makes our bond so singular. And it’s the same for me. But with me, much of that manifests in the flesh. It’s the flesh that betrays me, the flesh that burdens me, and the flesh that….
i’ve never ever felt comfortable with anyone like I am with you. I’ve never been able to sleep while touching another human before. I certainly never WANTED to touch someone while I slept. That… might not seem it, but it’s really terribly significant. It’s representative of something much greater than skin.
I’ve never… I know I often use metaphors about our intimate moments in ways of speech and language… tell you of colors I see… and that’s because… I’ve never let my body sing like that. I’ve never before had that gateway opened before. I’ve never… had the sharing of bodies be a sacred union. It’s never been special to me, like it is with you. I’ve never ever let my guard down and just… been with someone. Been something beyond technical-nerve-ending-pleasure. I’ve never SHARED anything of myself besides the most shallow outer-shell parts of me. I never let go.
And maybe that’s… I think maybe my “moments of now” come then – they come when I’m with you. Either in the throes of passion, or in the quiet moments of sleepy contoured shapes, my brain stops chattering at me, and I’m just…. with you.
Maybe it is …. my body being an inescapable prison in almost everything I try to do.
Maybe… it’s more about the ways that I’m damaged.
When the world of sexual desire is thrust upon you at too young an age… I mean, nobody wants to be that kind of broken. Nobody wants to admit that something so scarring happened. You want it to be… not a big deal. Either sex is a big deal, or it isn’t. So, if you can convince yourself that it isn’t, if you can look at it as something technical, if you can be purely clinical about it, you can convince yourself that you weren’t so compromised. that you weren’t so wrecked for everything else. But the problem is, when you do that, all sex becomes… remote. It all becomes science experiment. (It’s only that much easier to do when you’ve got an inappropritely over-sexed mother, like mine).
I was, in highschool, (aside from <old friend>) the last person of anyone I knew to ever kiss. Or be remotely physical. I felt awkward, and afraid. You don’t… you don’t want to be afraid, and you don’t want to have a terrible reaction…. But, you also don’t want those experiences to own you, you don’t want it to define you at all, and you don’t want those first images of sex that are burned in your brain forever to be the only things that you see. In every single milestone of breaching physical contact, be it major or minor, in every single one, my reason for doing so was because I was….. supposed to. Not because I particularly desired it. Because this is what people do. Becuase if I don’t, that means there’s somethig WRONG with me. Because I wanted to get it over with, and I wanted to know, and I wanted to see if it felt any different. Every touch was studied and planned. It was something to conquer. I made a very concious decision to try to get over my fear, and FORCED myself face it. I overcompensated, not with the number of partners, like most do…. but with my causal attitude towards the intermittant handful I’d had.
Does that explain, perhaps, the …. disappointing words that came from my mouth in the beginning? Being proud of my skills? It really was something of pride for me. That I had brought myself from someone so timid and afraid and rigid, to someone who… was seemingly ok.
( and now I’m afraid I’m painting myself like a slut. afraid my words are going to have the opposite intention. ….and, wow, I only just put the thoughts together, and realised why, and how, it’s been so easy for me to befriend those i’d been with, and why it might seem to you far too…. close. )
But through our friendship, through our trust, through the silent understanding between us of things I can’t put to words, through the connection I thought we were sharing…. my dichotomous world of terror vs technical fell away. I stopped thinking of everything like science or as devoid of meaning, and for the first time in my life, it wasn’t horrific to do so.
You are the first and only person I’ve ever… initiated contact with. Ever. Even when I’d been dating someone for some time, I was never the one to… make the first move. Ever. But now, with you, though my ways are generally timid or sometimes just silly, and usually lacking any finesse… I do. I can. Because with you, I’m not reacting to someone else’s desire. I actually feel it. Because I can understand and experience the connection between emotions and sexual contact.
Do I make this all sound carnal? Because my point is that… with you, I don’t SEE it as a carnal beast I have to think away with diagrams and technical terms.
It’s…. it’s really significant. It’s… it’s the way the trust and comfort and understanding manifests itself most in me. It’s the most vibrant place where you are my everything.
You… can’t comprehend how much that means to me. How much you mean to me. How deeply that touches me.
Or how much it wounds me to think that it’s this very aspect of me and my past that makes you cautious and wary; that it’s kept you from thinking about me “that way”. Or why it hurts to think that the physical is something we might not be able to share anymore. Or how I’ve slid into the romantic side of things
We keep going back and forth. From being frustrated and insane and at odds…. to being obviously and overwhelmingly caring for each other. Because we care.
That part is obvious.
But I don’t know if there is a solution. The point of difference is still there about who we are to each other, regardless of how well we can explain or understand each other’s perspectives. I’m not asking for some sort of title, or set down rules. But I can’t…. I can’t keep going like we were, when you only think of me as “friend”. Even the best kind that means the most to you. I really thought we’d shifted to something else. I thought that happened a while back. And I don’t know if I can shift back. And I’m really confused about everything. Still.
But everything is still what you mean to me. You mean everything to me.
I’m sorry.
December 12th 2009
email from Stefan
I just finished a client. I actually may have some other dude in to start another piece. I’d rather stay in and work anyway. It’s too cold out and i don’t feel like doing anything. I haven’t even left my house for more than coffee creamer since I’ve last written.
I…have a thick fog around my head the last few days. Kind of a head cold without the other symptoms. It’s actually a bit hard for me to look at this screen right now.
Not really feeling verbose at the moment, but….I’m going to try writing before this guy comes.
Sigh….look, I could get into it for days. Even though you know the word,”friend”, means more to me than common speak suggests, I’ll sum it up with this.
When I say “friend”, I think of it as sturdy house. A place I comfortable, and that provides support.
When I say “friends”, and think of us. I think of a enormous two-heads sphinx, with our heads. Dwarfing any familiar structure or humble abode. That is all I’ll say about that, time is short at the moment.
The reason I was hesitant to send the mail…..is because it was a picture I carefully drew of my face on yours from the valentines day shoot we did. I actually had to grid it a bit to get the proportions, almost exact…..then started being a little more loose about it. I just wanted to have fun doing it after all that line work. So, I simplified it. Though, I didn’t know if you wanted to see a pic of that. Even though, it makes me happy. I’m not secretive or ashamed of any of those pics, and still happily show people them. They are always met with a sense of respect by viewers. Knowing, they don’t have anyone to sync up with, with such kinds of visuals or projects.
Anyway….those pictures still make me happy. I still look at them. I’m actually using a random one from that shoot as a loose structure for a painting.
Umm….you said a lot indeed. You, made ,and are still seemingly making some valid observations I’m agreeing to. I….have a lot to say about it. Just, not much more to, write about it I suppose.
Shit….he’s calling. Hold on.
Okay….one more thing before I eat a bowl of cereal at light speed(I feel light-headed).
Things are complex and precarious, without a doubt. I try not to talk about you, but bring you up often by default. There is much to discuss and/or explain still. There is a slight chance, regardless that we know each other much better than anyone else we know…….that….we are…..just starting to ,understand each other. I don’t know. We don’t know.
Oh, and of course…..though i’m not so friendly these days…..as always…..
….I miss you.
Shit….I really need to eat a some cereal before I work. I’m also drawing a santa with a crying kid on his lap. Maybe I’ll ink that tonight.
He posts this to tumblr days later:
(Love Stef)
December 12th 2009
email from me
“There is a slight chance, regardless that we know each other much better than anyone else we know…….that….we are…..just starting to ,understand each other. I don’t know. We don’t know.”
Maybe. We are both people with a lot about us to understand.
and. I miss you too. really terribly.
December 14th
email from me
I felt much better today. Head still hurts, but I managed to clean my room and shower. I even did laundry for the first time since before Halloween. (ew)
i’m just sitting here… wishing my head didn’t hurt. wishing i didn’t smoke my last cigarette. wishing you were online, and we were video chatting. so i could be communicating with you…. and seeing you.
I wonder if you re-read the letters we send to each other again and again and again like I do.
I should give this computer to you. I feel weird having it.
December 14th 2009
email from Stefan
well…..I just read your mails.
the first I see,was two days ago….and the other, an hour ago. I haven’t been online as much. Facebook is a wasteland with sparing client communication as of the last few weeks, and i barely touch aim. Without us talking, it’s….blah. Anyway…..hello.
Yeah, I looked up forums to see the general consensus for the taste comparison of goose to other foul. Seems you hit the nail on the head. It’s said to be like duck….but…big. CHOMP!
You feel you should give me your computer….why? Umm….you should have it. In fact, it’s the only portal of communication at the moment. So….keep it.
I just decided it was too early to lay down, but…it’s not. I’m gonna eat a snack…..then…..lay down again…..investigation discovery isn’t half as entertaining as it used to be, but I watch it all the time now to try and fade to.
December 15th 2009
email from me
I lost my phone somewhere in the house this evening. But then I realised that … without you, there’s no reason to look. I think… aside from doctors, I’ve not gotten one phonecall in a month’s time.
I fell asleep after I texted you… and dreamt that you were here, and I showed you my laptop.
I’m assuming you don’t check my facebook. You should. I don’t really DO anything but lay down and find interesting links that require little reading, and ebay shop for super cheap bras and tights.
I…. keep wishing we were in Ocean Grove, and then I cry.
I um. I really wanted to… prove myself with this time, y’know? I was gonna… prove myself to you. I was gonna paint and draw and make all sorts of things, and then when I saw you again, I’d bring you into my clubhouse, and there’d be things I made all over the place, and all for you.
But my greatest accomplishment in the past month and a half has been cleaning my room so the floor is visible.
December 15th 2009
email from Stefan
I wanna see your laptop.
I only went into facebook today to go through my pics and erase any comment I thought was stupid. Anyone that noticed and inquired, got the response…”cry about it.” No one should care….or comment that much.
Ocean Grove is obviously a big page in my book too. I miss it. Please don’t cry over it. Ocean Grove is still there, and we’re not dying. We can, and will hang out there again. Ocean Grove, is not much in and of itself. In fact, Ocean Grove is nothing more than a few streets,annoying neighbors, and a bakery or two. Although, I know that’s your point.
That Ocean Grove is truly a testament to our friendship. It proved we could have fun anywhere together.
I miss your New Providence club house too.
Lastly…., don’t belittle your room cleaning accomplishment. My floor is still covered in clothes and wreckage. I haven’t seen my floor, since the piles of random hit it. A month isn’t very long. It’s not long to me at all. I’m still here for you, and will take what I could get. Random emails are satisfying to me.
I’ve never took a single second of our knowing each other for granted. Even random emails, still pack a punch of goodness.
night
No answers. No clarity.
We speak over the phone.
email from me
i’m sorry I called. I’m sorry I bothered you. I’m sorry if saying I wanted you by, but I felt too woogy, was like a tease. Please understand, that this sickness is really detrimental to everything I was trying to do with some distance. I’ve got just about every single symptom listed for Lyme Disease, and please do keep in mind the mental symptoms…. I keep hoping I’ll feel better. It’s really hard for me to think, or be strong, or not feel totally frayed. I’ve been feeling crazier than normal, and the being bedridden, the social isolation, it’s messing me up. I want to be in good condition to deal with things with you. It’s the most important thing in existence that i know. you. And I’m a mess. I’m worse than I ever was.
I wanted…. to at least make a dramatic entrace back into things. Not be whimpering and sickly in my pajamas when you see me, cluthichg at my head.
you sound far away. and tired of me. like i’m a family member you wish you weren’t related to. and that scares me\
December 16th 2009
email from me
What I’d been… waiting for… i mean…. wanting you… i mean…
At the words “i have more to say about this” or “that will wait til we see each other” I read and re-read and read again over our back-and-forth, trying to think about what possible words might come; I immediately plan in my head when I will get to see you, when this will happen, when the loose ends will finally be tied. When I will know how to BE.
I am entirely possessed by when these essential questions of just what and how i am to you, of what it is that you want from me, of how you feel about me.
I’ve been floating on this thin raft of threads. Trying to think myself into clarity. Thinking of nothing else.
But you don’t …. seem to have answers or remember what the questions were, or want to put things to words. You can only tell me that it changes day to day, moment to moment.
I’m not saying they aren’t difficult ideas to put proper words to. But things like “who do you want me to be to you?” ….. When I first asked months ago, you said you’d need to think about it, and I…. I’ve been desperately wondering the answer.
Writing long explanations of how I DO think of your situation, of your own particular human condition, and asking but what then, does that have to do with who we share our bodies with… where does that mean our hearts go… and what COLOR does that mean you feel about me…. Well, when you say you’ve a lot to say about that…. I…. I desperately want to know what that is. I desperately want to see you as soon as possible and get all this stuff SAID. Clear away some of the fog.
It really hurts to have you tell me that you… you’d have to read the emails to remember what the words were. I thought… these were… in your head.
I know they fill mine.
Aside from my assurances and explanations, aside from you saying that your demons have a great deal to do with what you can offer and what you can be…. there’s still a lot left unresolved and unexplained. I don’t KNOW how all that manifests in you. I don’t know if I’m to touch you, if you trust me.
I…. I guess I feel kinda… overexhuberant? Pouring over our letters to each other. Reading and re-reading everything from the past month. Two. trying to catch everything you say. trying to find where my words might have been lacking. Trying to makes sure I put to rest any fear or concern I can. Our letters to each other are constantly buzzing in my head.
I am not implying that you don’t have a lot going on in your head… that this isn’t eating your insides, too.
I really …. like the idea that maybe we are only now starting to really understand each other. I like the idea that there’s still a vast landscape to be led through.
Please… if you can… try. I know it’s hard, and I know these are difficult things to face, but… I reaaaaally really would like to be near you. But I can’t do that while I’m so very lost.
I just…
I’ll wait for your in person words.
December 16th 2009
Email from Stefan
You said you’d wait yesterday for a response,and that you felt as though you wear bothering me. Then….you called me. I don’t want to hear how it “wasn’t your intention” either. You already explained that. If you write that again….i’ll take it as a insult.
Last night, I said to you, when my words are together….i’ll let you know.
Then….again….you’re writing to me and going over our conversation. I don’t think you have real respect for me or my thoughts at the moment……nor do i think you really care to do more than placate with words like….”i’ll patiently wait.” You wait for nothing. You communicate in waves………making me think and pushing me to come up with answers. It wasn’t an insult to say I’d need to refer back. It’s an insult to hear that you go over our conversations likes a D.A. goes over files in a corruption case. I don’t think that way. Thoughts do change day to day. We’re not robots.
You think just telling me you’ll wait means that i’ll think it’s true. All I told you (and proved) is that i’m willing to adjust myself to however and whenever you want to talk. You have not extended that courteousness back to me.
If you want answers immediately, you’re never going to get them.
If you have a list of printed conversations with highlighter marks over things i’ve said, waiting for the chance to question them…..you will be disappointed.
If you have a common respect for me and accept and respect all my particular ways of thinking and the time I need to think about them, much like i’ve accepted every single unorthodox way that you work in life, you will get me to not only talk to you….but to…want, to talk to you.
….because as of right now, you are putting a lot of pressure on me. Cloaking it all in a patient facade.
I’m……telling you to expect NOTHING of me. Wait for NOTHING. Question me on NOTHING. I am not asking you to wait for anything. Stop….pretending I’m dangling you on a thread, teasing you with words at the tip of my tongue.
I am full of resentment, sickness, and mental diseases. I am not fit, or confident that I could be in a relationship. I don’t think I could make someone happy or share a life with someone unless I could get over some more issues with myself. Progress is happening , but…at a pace that is not accepted by anyone but myself. I will not force the life I have been reconstructing for years, to be compromised by thrusting myself into something that I could possibly ruin for me….and someone else.
I care for you in a ineffable way, (which is why emails, are not suited for these things) meaning you are indeed who I would be with in all ways if I thought I could handle that right now. I would shovel all others aside for you, like coal in a furnace…..if I thought I was capable of that kind of commitment. I am still sick……and have been on my own venture to figure out what is wrong with me. As….you have.
Now…..the words that would have spilled out naturally in person, have been pushed out in text. Why, well…..you know exactly why.
I want you to not have me constantly explain that you are more important than anyone, but I am still working out my personal life. If you don’t understand that by now…..you will never get it.
Take me as I am…….or leave me alone. I am not here, to do what you’d like me to. I have accepted ,respected, and helped you through every unconventional, twisting, bedridden moment, whether I understood or not. I am beyond through with reminding you of that.
If you feel you could respond to this immediately, you didn’t read it.
I hope it’ll take you days of consideration….or…..that you’ll just truly patiently wait until I call you at this point, and actually respect my words when i do.
We haven’t been talking. That was your decision. Now, you tell me you’ve been waiting for me and are on the edge of your seat ready to hear me talk?
I have not only respected your problems ,but your pacing and sensitivities as far as when you can or can’t communicate. In return,respect my pace and problems……that is the last time i will ask that.
I want no response. I want no quoting. I want no back reference. I want you respect my words. I want you to honor my problems, and understand that much of them are still unknown, as you honor your own in such a way.
December 17th 2009
email from Stefan
I just spent quite a while drawing muscle fibers and tendons on you in this drawing. Then…..I was making myself this charred looking guy….lots of hard blacks. I was using a round acrylic brush. I didn’t wipe the brush once on the edge of the ink well. Yep. Splat.
I….froze with shock. Then….tried to compensate and fill in my whole figure solid black….thinking I may look like some other worldly ghost thing. I completely lost my likeness in the silhouette. My mouth looked tiny, my shoulder lost it’s form and…..GAH! fuck.
I cut out the only savable part of the drawing. You. I still have the skinless you. I have to try to make this something now. Though, i’ll be drawing this again now. I just calmed down about the whole thing. I’m still a bit shaken up. I haven’t done that since the first week we started with the nibs. Sigh. That really truly fuckin’ sucks. Now it’s cut out and looks…..crafty or something. I’m still gonna give it to you. I’m sure you’d like to see yourself skinless anyway. When I redraw this….i’ll make some changes anyway. Maybe…..i’ll paint it. I don’t know.
P.S. Hulu’s horror collection is terrible. For the most part. I’ve been watching stuff while I draw.
Watch “Rabid Grannies”……it came out the same year as evil dead…..and has similarities…..and genuinely weird moments. It’s kooky, but creepy uncomfortable with cool shots and sweaty cackling british people. It’s…fun. Oh, and the actors I suppose dubbed their own voices after filming, which makes it even weirder. I wish we were watching it now.
Frustrations.
December 18th 2009
email from me
it’s going to snow a lot.
my aunt will be away.
i will be wishing happy romping things.
December 19th 2009
email from Stefan
The snow has started.
It’s harmless flurries at the moment. My mom just called me to tell me there have been hundreds of accidents and a few deaths in philly from the snow. She called to tell me…..that.
Umm….I was suppose to go to my mom’s house to have a little b-day party for my niece. Her b-day is the day before xmas eve though. I got her, where the wild things are(i will make sure she has a quality book collection), and some nintendo ds games. Blah.
I will be taking the snowiness as another excuse to not go anywhere.
I did, get you some things for your birthday. I’m not mailing them to you either. I WILL, hand these to you in person. YOU, will give me a hug in return. Then we will sit and hang out. Soon….if you will allow that.
Okay…..I feel really crappy and have to attempt to put a transfer together….I am so, not in the mood for it though. Then, I’ll sit and draw for the remainder of the weekend.
Tomorrow will be a even snowier day. I’ll be wishing things as well.
December 19th 2009
email from me
You…
you can come over. (when it’s not deathly)
For snowy hiding.
I officially invite you.
December 20th 2009
email from me
i’m flying apart.
I can’t… do anything.
everything is awful. i’m so tired. of everything.
and you are probably right. and it’s probably wrong for me to hope and try to reach like I have been. i’m crashing and burning in a collasal wreckage of broken flesh and scattered mind.
the thread is sliding out of all my seams. it all would be so much less painful if it weren’t that I’ve been screaming for someone to help me for so long… and just getting pats on the head and cold shoulders…. just getting worse…. a whole decade lost… my eyes and hands fading into fog .. fading away just a little more every week, every year… my mind a bit more foggy… a bit harder to think straight….
who am i to expect someone to look at me as a gift? to accept this damaged battered wreck, and do so with a smile?
you’re right.
and i was right to be as i was. years ago.
there’s obviously a reason i’m so solitary. and maybe there’s a reason that i’m not worthy for people to fight for me. to help me get better.
i don’t know how to get better my myself. but i can’t ask someone else to do it, either. Or to watch my mind fall apart from the anguish of it all.
sobbing. like i am now.
i thought… we could be messy human beings together. that complimented one another. giving each other safe places to be.
it’s ridiculous. that last email you sent… if i’d gotten that two months ago, I’d never have gone away. i wasn’t really after much more than that.
isn’t that stupid. all this. all my crying.
but. really. i’m just useless.
i can’t draw without you.
too broken. too much a mess.
there’s a reason somewhere.
you were right.
i was right.
i know i’ll never have a happy ending.
just. a few moments here and there.
the happiest moments with you. which i probably don’t deserve.
I’m not….
this isn’t anything with me asking you anything or anything likt that at all. dont… don’t be offended. please. please.
gosh, i’ve just been missing you so much… so fucking much….
i don’t even know what i’m trying to say.
just crying on a lonely snowy night. and wishing.
December 20th 2009
Email from Stefan
….and i’m here to read it.
….I’m alone too. I’m looking out at the snow, waiting for a a few more yawns to go lay down.
I often think about life never getting better, and how I AM, grateful for our wonderful times and how that’s enough for me. It doesn’t need to get better, and i don’t need to wish it to.
I don’t take what you wrote as any direct message,or question. I understand scattered thoughts. I understand you. I always did. I always will. Whether we talk or not. You will always have someone on this planet that…..understands you.
I know how manic, lonely nights can twist the mind. I know….very well. I also know how talking to others, can make you even lonelier…..knowing there are people out there that you could really relate to……somewhere else.
Everything IS awful. I….am not afraid of awful though. I accept it. For now at least. I more so, accept that I can’t change all the things I want.
I’m, like you. At a bit of a stand still in all aspects right now. Obviously, we have our different types of issues, but…..we are both void of control.
All I could tell you for sure is……
…..I miss you.
…..I got you some things I want to give you.
…..I want to hug you very badly.
…..nobody holds a candle to you. Still.
…..I worry about your health.
….I am a phone call away.
….I am here, if you need me.
Life is awful right now. I…am not afraid of it. It has to be awful….sometimes. Sometime, for a long time. I would worry if it wasn’t. We both know awful quite well. We soften the blow of awful…….for each other. That’s the story of our friendship. It’s too meaningful for me to ever forget or demean that.
….and again, I miss you.
December 20th 2009
email from me
( i was falling asleep writing this, and passed out with the computer on my lap. so i’ll just send it now, untampered and unedited)
I can’t call you. Not now. If I try to speak things, I’ll just sob.
<Vermont Friend> called me tonight. And… just explaining the last few weeks… saying things outloud. my voice cracking.
and then I got off the phone and have been mostly crying ever since.
I wish I had a definitive expiration date. Sometime soon. So we could go off on a mad adventure. Just fill the time with joyful chaos.
I didn’t …. I didn’t think I’d look at my time in Ocean Grove as… one of the happiest times in my life. Totally unexpected.
So. Maybe life will get better. I mean. Maybe there will be even happier times. You mean more now to me than ever. And if we spend time….
maybe… if things get a little different…
it will be… even happier.
the only thing I can ever think of … is to somehow make lots and lots of money. to get rich. to take us away somewhere. to keep all the people and things at a distance. to keep the critical eyes away to not make us feel bad about who we are.
I was watching Doctor Who. catching up on the last season. and there was this … it was this alternative reality future, where London was destroyed, and this woman and her family were relocated to Leeds, and had to live in a tiny rowhouse as assigned… and with three other families, all crammed in… and they had to sleep on the kitchen floor. This woman, her grandad was being the optimistic one, and saying chin up, we can do it, time of war and all that. But the woman…. she said to him “but there’s no fight. there’s no battles to win. this is just how things are.” And it was terrible. It was grim and it was terrible, and there was nothing to fight.
I’ve nothing to fight.
Y’know…… thinking about it now. I think that’s why I have always loved Doctor Who so much. And why I ike Buffy so. Both are ficticious environments… in which all the characters are fully aware and immersed in the perspective that daily everyday life and societal existence and day jobs are TERRIBLE and horrific unbearable things… and that living a life risking death and living without any idea what will come next is far preferable.
I was raised on Doctor Who. It’s really my favorite thing. It really … formed my perspective of life. And I thought it was real. Not… literally. But the perspective. The outlook. I thought it could happen.
I…
I’ve been thiinking about holding your hand alot lately. I find this wierd. Because I never really liked holding hands. It always felt stupid. clammy. lame.
but. i keep thinking of holding your hand. Of… being next to you. and discretly holding your hand.
(and sometimes, kissing you)
… we are like a demented “gift of the magi” pair. You, keeping yourself together concentrating on your art, drawing incessantly and moving forward, keeping yourself from and distracting yourself from unrelenting narcotic-borne demons…. and me, my ability to draw and see fading from me, trying desperately to distract myself from it and avoid it, my demons of drawing, while being on a regimen of narcotic pain killers to help me bear my constant pain.
and.. yes, it does make everything worse. speaking to other humans. trying to have conversation, and knowing nothing is being communicated or understood. I don’t know if I can be friends with <Mutual Friend> anymore. Every time i speak to him I find I feel worse about myself. Everything is snyde cuts or petty jealousy.
Oh, you do mean too much to me.
I miss you. So much.
I’m falling asleep between the paragraphs, so I’ll send this.
Wjo kows if it makes sence.
I wan us to be chilren in the snow. I’m going to hope I dream of that.