I am so afraid of you right now, because you're gone. You are a million different things when you are gone. You're with someone else. You're fucking right now. You're angry with me. You're playing with Zia. You're going to see Manzie (fuck her. still fuck her). You're happier without me. The scariest of all the things you are is fine. You are fine without me, and I'm all these little pieces. There is no one left to tell me to eat watermelon for breakfast or try to teach me guitar or find me when I've really lost it. If I end up in Amarillo, I won't end up hugging you without looking because I knew it was you, and I won't be part of the most beautiful thing that woman in Texas had ever seen.
There is no one to be mean to. There is no one to be quiet with or confuse me. We were together for eight and a half years and I couldn't conceive of how all that pushing would eventually work. I am a clever fucking idiot.
I have been crying almost constantly since I ran away. This is probably terrible for my skin. The other day I was walking through Denver trying to find a place to cry because the coffee shop I was at seemed like a terrible place to do it. It became really funny that there was no place to do it. I found a park to sit down at and as soon as I did I heard three kids dressed in red saying something about initiation and I had to leave, laughing and crying at the same time. There was no place to do it so I eventually sat at a bus stop and did it there. Lots of people with dogs thought it was weird. After that I walked to El Charrito and thought about how difficult everything was.
The last thing you did to me was hug me. You held me and I wondered if you would be late for work. You said you didn't want it to end the way it did when I left your house. I left your house angry because you were doing errands and I continued to feel very unimportant to you. I know that because you're gone I am not paying attention to the things you did that hurt me, and there were a few.
I miss how clever you were. You were brilliant and I resented you for not acknowledging it. I don't think I'm alone in that.
Here are things you've said to me that will be with me forever, and that no idiot man after you can live up to, given my tendency to hold things over people:
I told you that I hate my weird feet and you said feet are supposed to be weird, that's why they're so far away from your face.
When we were lying on the bottom bunk we were holding our hands out in front of us and you said, "All we need is stars."
I told you, "I want to leave you to fall in love with other people."
And you said, "It would have been better if you just wanted to sleep with them."
I told you I wanted to be a comedian, and you said, "You're not funny, you're ridiculous."
That one is my favorite, by the way. It's so brilliant and cold I was too impressed to be angry when you said it to me.
My memory is frightening, isn't it?
I know you kept secrets from me. Maybe you needed to. That drove me crazy, but it was a short summer drive to get there. I needed you so much more than you needed me, I don't know if you realized that or if that makes my weird tendencies more understandable. I am out in the world by myself and I am not very good at it. All those shitty games I played with you I do to other people and they don't know the rules.
We got together because you didn't seem to care whether or not you got to touch me. You were just very kind. You called me a bunny because I was eating a carrot. We sat next to each other and didn't say much and you didn't try to do anything but come up with better things to say. I still remember what you looked like when you were 18.
There are a lot of people that want to touch me and I don't want them anywhere near me. I hate that people want to touch so much. There are a lot of people who help me and I hate them for it. I have been for all intents and purposes doing what I want but I don't even know if I want it if I can't tell you about it and watch you kind of glaze over and play guitar and think about how to pack a fucking backpack.
I remember when we had first gotten together and we would just stare at each other like weirdos. I would look at your eyes and think to myself that I could easily look at them forever, and every day we woke up next to each other I would check and see if it was true, and it always was. When I left I couldn't look you in the eye because it was still true.
I am so good at not being afraid because the only fear I had was losing you. I wrote that in that e-mail I finally cobbled together. I don't know when you'll see that. I don't know what you'll do with that. Maybe you'll just see it's from me and delete it without opening it. I've lost you, I am pretty sure. If I see you again I won't be able to talk. I want to hold your hand and cry. I don't want to say anything to anyone and I don't think I have the ability to say anything to you.
I wish I was a different person.
About A Blog
I'm a Denver Comedian, occasional cartoonist and person of interest to someone, probably. These articles are really too long.