Time. Truth. Hearts.

Excerpt from my black thought pad,
Written Saturday, January 5, 2008:

"It's becoming more apparent by the way I don't even know what month it is anymore. Another year? Funny how slash/slash/08 feels so different this time, when just last year saw a seamless slide to the infamous slash/slash/07. Last year when I counted down with people I barely knew and most certainly did not care for. When my cup kept refilling and I even started spilling over my own top with a sense of freedom I hadn't felt before. And I was kissed as the clock turned, and I felt that was reason enough to smile and drunk dial. Oh, the people I talked/slurrrrrrred to that night...I had wanted Greg. Wanted him more than the awkwardness Andy always offered.

Alliteration always makes me want to vomit.

Fast forward a few milestones to slash/slash/08 when I am sucking back cosmos and canoodling with someone I practically despise. Something has changed. Something has always been changing in one aspect or another, but this time the change was less of a slight of step but more of a tectonic shift. It's him again, and it's always been him him him him, and I'm spending so much time daydreaming about running away with other people, but I can't--because it's not fun after I've ruined someone.

After him him him--his name would be too redundant--all I can think about is ruining people for the pleasure of productively passing time--even if it is just one big pointless circle. I am a guy, I am a guy, I am a guy. And I am calculating exactly what touch/look where and when will get you to kiss me. And the kicker is that I don't even want to; I just want the power of a first kiss to even show up on my empty heart's radar. It's always the same body shifting in the front seat of my car and all the right awkward silences. All the wrong conversations with the wrong people at exactly the right time. And this feels like a normal evening to me---EXCEPT NOW, I CAN'T DO IT.

Him again.

A block like Benadryl blankets my nervous system, and suddenly my limbs are holding a suitcase and a perfect palm. And they're stroking a stomach or counting Euros or clutching the perfect glass of dry, white wine. And then it's only my body left in the present--when my senses slide back to some place and time when more things made sense ONLY because they were uncertain and exciting---but now that I've been there and now that I've seen this, baby, I've gotta tell you that there was no reason to cause a fuss over what was just the next step in the so-called natural progression of my life plan.

So what tortures me now is that this next step also doesn't involve you. And it won't for a long time, and that scares me. Because I can time travel all I want, but lucidity in the sunshine can't go on forever. Or if it does, then I'm afraid of managing the present and the future when I'm constantly subconsciously pulled out of heart and mind.

But it's him, and I want to.
And I must.
And I will.

Promise.

But for now, could we just make out? I've always been strangely attracted to you, and we could make it work for a few minutes if you want to. This could be functional, because I don't need this anymore than you need additional internal conflict. I only want to build you up just to rip it all to pieces with avoidance and denial.

So that's why I love him. What a romantic concept...to realize your love for someone by saying, "I know I love you truly, only because you're the only one I don't want to ruin."

[/excerpt]