Wednesday, January 30, 2013

This stupid cycle of saving and being saved.

Save me Doctor/mom/teacher/lover/friend.  An impossibility.  Obviously.

It's your birthday tomorrow.  I don't know if you're alive (still).  Almost afraid to rip through everything I own looking for your phone number.  Address.  I accidentally (?) threw those things away a year ago.  I still look sometimes.

Everything I regret, I think.

Every time someone asks me to be sad, even though things have been worse.  Even though people have died.  Worse (I suppose) things have happened.  Every time: I think of you.  I'm still in your living room in Mississippi.  Scared and bored.  Running.  I was running then.  Still running.  Haven't gotten anywhere yet.

But I can't fix anything.  Can't change anything.  Even if I went back tomorrow, tonight.  I couldn't change a thing.

It's a regret and a trap.  It's marrow and I bet it'll outlast everything else in my life.

I don't really desire.  I just feel the absence of.

A vacuum, vast space in my heart.  Doesn't mean things don't happen in this really fucking long meantime.

We're so so so used to loss.

Anyway.  Hi, Tyler.  If you're reading this.

Happy 28.

I love you, man.

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