I was really in bad shape before Flo Ryda...
Friday, December 19th, 2:13am.
Have to do this quickly and without revision - give shit about syntax right now. Too hard.
Nine or ten pm, more than twenty-four ago. Started out badly, mostly cuz of me – took a while to open up. Until. We talked, talked more. Laid down, held hands, talking, talking. Told her I couldn't continue being this wonderfully, intensely close to her without wanting to be closer. Closer. I cried, she cried, I held her. She tried to leave 8am next morning and on her way out, I told her it may be the last time I see her and how could she leave so easily? She cried. Hard. We held, clutched. Sat down, talked more, something I said finally made her get it – don't know what, how, why. Mad at me initially, she then got mad at herself for not having gotten it. I told her she was an idiot, she agreed. Said she didn't ever think she could have me. I told her that was tragic. She said sorry to me, but she should also have said it for her, cuz I make her happy, cuz I've always know just what to do for her – whatall no one else seems to have ever done. Told her I loved her and we went through our entire relationship, Day One to now (including times we almost kissed, times she put her lips to mine and I didn’t, haunted as I was by black and blues on K’s back, ass and shoulders, and what to do about the guy put them there - and cuz I wasn’t sure she meant it). Four years and if it seems longer it's cuz it feels like we grew up together and maybe we have. Told her exactly when I fell in love with her. Told her I remembered telling her so. She, of course, didn't get it then, either.
She left at one, Johnny waiting in car downstairs (the ultimate indignity) as we hugged goodbye.
(Hours before, all those Johnny stories, what an idiot he is, what stupid shit he’s said, how he never understands what she’s going through. Toward the end, I asked her, “Why do you tell me these things?” She said she didn’t know.)
Cried for two hours after she left. Took pictures, don’t know why (truth on film?).
Crying on and off since. Music has no taste. Christmas reminds me of her (this one supposed to be ours – she’d made “tons of plans” for us all fell by wayside when I disappeared after she took Johnny back) and, without her, I want no part of it. Or of this shitty city.
She’s always told me I’m the one understands her, the only she doesn’t feel alone with. That she prefers my company to anyone else’s. She’s also said a great many other things, not only then, but recently, and I told her I was angry at her for having said them kiddingly and she told me she was angry at me for thinking she wasn’t serious about them. Which made me angrier. Cuz “I would marry you, period” and “Let’s run away to [this island] together” (replete with emailed pic of island) and “Move in with me” and “I want to make you smile like a boy” and “I want to be around you all the time” and “You once promised to live forever if I married you” and “I miss you” and “I love you so much” and on and on is the kind of meaningful dung I’ve always wanted to hear. That it comes from her is Everything, except for the fact she’s with an ape she keeps breaking up with, only to get back together again and she’s never done this so many times.
Month ago, told her she was worth staying in New York City for and that’s considerable, cuz I hate this place like I hate predators. Serenaded her via email with Ani DiFranco’s Smiling Underneath, cuz Ani wrote it about us.
Can’t write more.