face forward

It's getting colder, though it's been warm for the past few days, warm enough for a light hooded-sweatshirt that tonight seems woefully inadequate, even indoors.  The cold and the hum of the city puts me in mind of a howling winter wind.  The way it would blow across the sky would whiten everything in sight, blanketing it all beyond gray.  A whiteout wind, a blizzard, that's what the city is to me tonight.

When I came home, they were moving a couch in.  It was halfway in the door and wedged.  Four people combined their strength to torque one end up to lever the last foot of it the rest of the way through.  I stopped helping before they came to the second door.  The other day I helped a stranger with a TV for four blocks, but this seemed a burden.  Then I recalled that I have all of my possessions in the living room, and asked them to stop.  Enough has been broken. 

The relief from moving beyond this dormitory living, on the eve of it after a couple of months, ought to be enough to help me sleep like a baby.  I've liked this room.  I wanted it to last longer.  I want my own apartment, but as far as sharing goes I've been in worse situations.  I'm awake, wide awake, composing poetry in my mind and prose on the page.  I'm in a romantic mood.

I'm desperately seeking some validation.  I'm desperately seeking some attention.  I'm getting both, but not from the sources that would penetrate to the places I need them to.  Give me an inch and I'll take it.  I'm just doing what comes next.  I'm just taking opportunities, and working towards using them well.  I'm desperately seeking opportunities.  Give me an opportunity and I'll take it.

I feel like the last remnants of the year are falling away from me like flakes of skin, whirling in the whiteout as the white noise whirls beyond the window.  The blinds are closed.  In my new place, I'll have curtains.  There won't be a tree outside of my window.  I fantasize about getting a bird feeder and a little flower box.  The cactus seems to be doing well.  The weather has dried my skin.

Everything is dust.  Everything is the next thing it's meant to be already and already in the way.  I want to purge everything I own.  There is a lot I want.  Too much of what I want I had and lost or gave away.  Maybe this is the origin of a hoarder psychodrama.  I feel like a monk.  I want to retire early through a lucrative transaction between the coat-tails I've been riding and the little proof there is.  I want teeth.

Tomorrow I will see what resolutions stick.  I've forgotten that.  I'd forgotten that.  I'll try to remember tomorrow, if I don't forget.  Tomorrow I'll see what memories stick.  I lack discipline.  Going to a gym requires discipline, as does running, earning more money, writing more, producing three solo shows of paintings, working on PR, getting a logo together, learning how to beat a better drum, learning Cantonese, being more loving, getting over the past, letting go, forgetting and remembering.  All the time, remembering.  Nothing is this convenient.

When I am older I will wear a boutineer.  I will burn cigarette holes into my clothes, choosing conspicuous places where strangers might have gotten careless; above the right elbow, for example.  Nostalgia has served me well until now.  If I were a creature of pure consciousness, living in infinite abundance, I would meticulously craft a detail like that.  The hole would be the whole.  It usually is.  Now I'm looking in the right direction.

Home

I wish I had a home.  I have a room, now, for one month.  Finding an apartment is so difficult.  I just stare at the computer screen and when I leave the room I watch like a hawk for rentals.  It has been so difficult to focus on actually creating anything.  I feel like things are falling by the wayside.  I am not sure what I'm really doing.  I can't be bothered to do laundry or pack or anything.

Last night I pigged out and watched a movie with my friend.  She had no attention span, so it was pretty much just me watching a movie.  We ate pizza with extra cheese, then I went to bed overly full and overly alone.  Just myself and my dog.

My therapist is really funny because he keeps laughing at a lot of the things I say.  I'm not really trying to be funny, but I guess I have no choice.  I am in a really strange space right now.  I feel in limbo in a lot of ways.  I don't want to leave town, because then I will not only be giving up on my dreams, but I will be letting my ex ruin an entire city for me.  I'm just not going to let that happen. 

I have applied to this Hispanic Aids Foundation grant, so that I can get rent subsidies.  I hope I get it.  It would sure be great to be able to afford to live on my own, or in a nice place, and not worry about where rent is coming from.  I like where I am now, but the landlords are terrible and since they want me out I'd rather not prolong the inevitable.  I wish I had savings.  I'd like to work on saving. 

I feel like I'm just rambling today.  I didn't really want to write anything, but I want to keep the habit up so that I can work towards developing something out of my writing.  I would really like to be able to do that.  I tried to start a novel but it is entirely too depressing.  Most of what I write is very depressing.  I'm just depressed.

I wonder when this will end.  I wonder when I'll wake up and not hope for my lover to come back to me.  I know he won't.  He's a stubborn asshole.  I wish I could hate him.  I know it's my fault.  I know it's his fault.  I am a freak.  I have been painting my nails and I dyed my hair blue because I know I am a total freak and I want to look like one. 

I need money.  I need love.  I need a home.  I need a maid.  I need. 

tired

I'm tired.  I slept ok last night, I think.  I woke up only once to go to the bathroom, which is a change.  I'm tired of pretending I'm over my love.  I'm tired of pretending I still think this life of mine is worth fighting for.  I'm tired to going to a job I hate.  I'm tired of my dog. 

I'm completely exhausted with this job I have to go to this morning, where I do really basic computer things for a 72 year old man who just doesn't get it.  This morning I have to go all the way to the Bronx just to help him retrieve an attachment from a sent email.  I hope it's simple, because he's using AOL and I'm not too familiar with that system.  At least I'll get paid, which will help me afford to move.  I currently can't afford to move.  I currently can't afford much.

A friend posted a photo of my love on Facebook yesterday.  Every time I see him I just melt.  He's the sweetest looking man.  I know he's been no good to me for months and months, but when I see him I just want to fall into his arms.  I have this fantasy that he will text me and say, "How are you?"  I would respond, "if you genuinely cared you wouldn't have to ask right now because you would have been there when it really mattered."  He's never going to come to his senses.  He's never going to realize how special I am.  He's never coming back to me.

It's sad, and hard, to come to terms with that.  I just miss him so much.  I really don't have a lot of friends that I can count on.  He was my best friend, in addition to being my sexy lover, and my cuddle bunny.  I guess I wasn't anything special to him.  He's sure proven that.  Why I am holding on to someone who could so easily throw me away like a piece of garbage I just can't figure out. 

Partly, I think being with him was comfortable.  He was comfortable to be around.  I could use some of that.  I need some comfort.  My back hurts, and my head hurts, and my heart hearts, and there is nothing I can do about any of this.  There is nothing I can do.

Regression

Some days are better than others.  Last night, for instance, I accidentally saw my love's face because he posted some shirts on his wall.  I hadn't unliked that.  I have now.  It won't happen again.  I then spent the rest of the night thinking and dreaming about him.

I dreamed we were at an art supply store.  I may have worked there.  It was also a cafe.  I had my head in his lap.  I loved having my head in his lap.  I loved the way he would put on his underwear while looking in the mirror, making sure his package looked just right.  He is so sexy.  There will never be anyone in my life who is as sexy as he is.  I'm sure of that. 

I had done a painting of him naked with a hard-on.   It's been hanging on my wall.  I've decided to donate it to Sylvia Rivera Law Project's fundraiser this year, where they hold an art auction.  I like the organization and think it's a very worthy cause.  It's also a good way to turn something good out of something bad.  I re-titled it "Aging Overweight Porn Star."  This was a petty stab at him.  I'm so hurt, angry, and disillusioned.

I'm also all of those things when it comes to apartment hunting.  I've worked so hard in this city and I still can't really afford to live here.  I'm at an age where I'd love to be settling down in a nice quiet apartment by myself somewhere, just me and my dog.  It would be great if I could afford something like that in the east village, but it would be about $2000/month.  I'm a failure.  I'm a complete and dismal failure in every way.  No wonder he left me. 

It's not like I'm lazy.  I work hard.  I do everything I know how to do to both secure work and sell my art.  I just don't know how much more there is to do.  My ex has no problem.  He works hard every day at his studio and people just flock to him.  That was always inspiring to me.  I wish he would hold me and tell me everything is going to be ok.  I'm starting to tear up again.  I haven't cried in a while. 

I still miss him.  I still want him back.  It's really hard for me to do all of this alone.  I didn't get to go to therapy this week because my therapist was sick.  I don't know what I'm going to do.  I need a miracle.  I wish my love would be that miracle.  I would make him work his ass off to prove he's learned his lesson, but I would take him back.  I miss my little miracle. 

Late

I just got home from work.  It was a long day but work moved quickly for the first couple of hours.  While I'm there I just keep thinking about how I'm going to change this crappy job and poverty-stricken life into one that allows me to take care of myself, live more comfortably, and even move.  I started looking for places today, in earnest, and there's just nothing out there.  Everything in my price range turned out to be a Philippines scam to steal my identity.  Go right ahead, Manilla.

I started taking my meds today.  I've chosen to do that at 10am.  This is a good time because if I'm up later I can still wake up in time to make something to eat, and if I'm up early I can get a lot done.  I have to take them at the same time every day, and if I miss even one dose it could cause serious problems for the effectiveness of an entire line of medication, narrowing the options for me, and possibly closing a door.  I've never had to deal with that sort of pressure for tiny pills.  Technically, they're not so tiny.  There are 5 a day, now, including the one I was taking before.  I read all the info on them while I made a nice comfort breakfast.  The worrying thing is that the side-effects all seem like the very symptoms that have already been debilitating me every week.  I started taking these so I could stop having those fevers, pains, rashes, etc.  I went to the doctor in the first place to solve those symptoms.  Now it seems that I may have to deal with them forever.  I'm not sure if they're spontaneously generated, or, like the main effects of the drugs, cumulative.

Last night I had a really pleasant dream.  I was dreaming that someone loved me.  It wasn't my ex.  It was a man in a nice grey sweater that felt soft against my skin when I put my head on his shoulder.  It felt safe.  He seemed really together.  My ex always seemed really together to me, also, but how could he be if this is how he treats his enfianced?  I want the kind of love I deserve.  I want to be held and made to feel bigger when I feel small.  I feel so small all the time, these days.  I feel small and ugly.

I'm trying to work hard, move forward, put a brave face on.  I just don't have any answers, only questions.  In my life, I sometimes know exactly what's supposed to happen next.  This isn't one of those times.  I still don't know what just happened.  I really can't wrap my head around the way life has upended on me.  Everything is sideways.  It's no wonder I feel dizzy all the time. 

My lips feel like sandpaper, my tongue feels too big for my mouth, my throat hurts.  I can't drink enough water, but it's forced and doesn't satisfy.  It's been since I last spoke to my ex that I actively sought out what he was doing online.  It still flashes by on Facebook, and I look, but I don't click, or like, or pursue it in any way.  I just can't.  After the last time I cried out for help and he failed again, I know I have to give up on him.  I need something he will never be.  It's still so sad, but it doesn't bring tears to my eyes.  That may change tomorrow.

Morbid

I sleep like a corpse, arms crossed or hands folded in supplication.  Or, like the living dead, I moan and shift, seeking escape from these confines, dreaming of a world I will never see again, eyes forced closed.  When I do dream, it is of him.  He, who drags my bleeding entrails through the city, tangled in the gears of his ten-speed bike.  Miles upon miles of carrion call to the rats in the gutters, "take him, I'm done."

I spent the weekend in bed, feverish and dizzy, unable to open my eyes for a searing pain in my right frontal lobe.  There are no restful days when even the pillow betrays.  The betrayals of the body I'm growing accustomed to.  The betrayals of the heart, I never will.  On Monday I had to work.  Every turn or bend transformed me into a drunken ballerina, whirling precipitously close to the edge of full collapse.  Somehow, I made it through.  Miracles can still happen for the decayed.

As tears begin to rust these shackles of love I can feel them loosen occasionally, only to be countered by the bloating of rigor mortis, which pours my flesh over them the way foam overflows a tube.  If I am foam, it explains it all.  Soon, there may be no more shackles, only the shackle part of me.  Like rotting teeth or fingernails, another thing to maintain in poverty and solitude.  

I am a social and optimistic, highly morbid, person.  He wanted me waiting in the kitchen, but when my heart was on a platter he pushed it away.  Then, it was still fresh, or so I thought.  Perhaps prepared with too much sauce, he always claimed to like simplicity, but only from me.  I am not simple.  I am trapped in a world I no longer belong in, forced to feed on the brains of others who've made it through, or who haven't.

Grandma is one who has.  She says, "It's your movie."  Mine is a genre pic.  It's a tragic love story of a zombie's unrequited love for a stone.  Grandma says, "you decide."  So I did, and he didn't have a splash-guard to stop the fluid of my bleeding heart from spitting against my face as he spun away into the distance, never to return.  Grandma says, "I love you," to everyone, and means it.  He gives his love to a t-shirt, or a picture of auto-fellatio, or a stuffed animal, or to anyone at all who shows an ounce of superficial interest.  Really, he'll give his love to anyone but me.

A free-thinker, and a talent who has seen more days than I may ever, Grandma says all the right things.  I simply do all the wrong things.  That must be it.  For the most part, I have acted with integrity, wherever possible.  If anything, I spoiled him.  He was spoiled already, to a great extent, I now realize.  That last piece of fruit in the bottom of the bowl, browned and useless for anything but compost.  Except, I am the compost, a lily-gilder turned daisy-pusher.

Mephistopheles, where?  Only within.  Within us all.  Yet the angels abound, and she is one.  Powerful radiance and magical zest propel a strong mind and a lithe body towards ever greater triumphs.  Majestic faith and trust, not only in self, but in the future, inspire everyone she touches.  She always has a kind word, she always has an open heart, she is one of the good ones.

Death to Friendship

I have signaled the death knell of our attempt to be friends.  I needed him.  I called out to him.  I asked for help.  He doesn't seem to care or realize that I have proven time and again that I am not asking for anything I'm not willing to give.  I have dropped everything to be with him, I have dropped everything to worry him.  I wept and wept when I called out for help and his voice was so cold.  He is so mean.  He can be such an asshole.

I basically spent the rest of the day sending him text messages and emails reminding him what a terrible person he's being.  I told him things about how he's a failure and will always be a failure because he doesn't recognize true value.  I told him he needs a smack down.  I told him that I was always there for him 110%.  I told him that I am a better person and I am a better artist.  I told him he's hiding, and a coward. 

Early on in the day he told me that he couldn't contact me any more for his mental health.  I told him his mental health was atrocious but that his spiritual health was much worse.  I just kept going.  Right up until the end of the night, I just kept going.  Then I told him I wasn't going to keep doing the to myself.  Then I kept going. 

I'm so angry at him for being such a total waste of humanity.  What a failure he is that I still can't count on him for anything even after I've been there for him so many times.  When I thought he was suicidal I dropped everything to comfort and care for him.  He kept saying, "thank you for your light."  He doesn't want light, though.   He wants to hide in fear and selfishness.  He is so selfish. 

I'm selfish too, but I'm fighting the good fight.  He keeps saying that he wants to give himself to the world, use his gifts for the benefit of the world.  He's not, though, and I think he knows it.  He wants to seem altruistic, but in reality he is just a scared selfish little boy trying to get famous before he dies.  If he actually wanted to be a giver, he would recognize that I have every right to expect him to be there for me. 

He won't, though, and I am wasting my time hoping for it.  He may never have the eureka moment where he realizes what a complete idiot he is.  It's not my job to teach him, or help him, anymore.  He's made that decision.  It is my job to take care of myself so I don't die of AIDS, take care of my dog, and try to find a new place to live.  Every one of those things would be so easy if only I could lean on his strength, but I can't.  Somehow, impossible as it seems, I have to find my own.

I have a doctor's appointment to go to.  Today I start taking AIDS medicine.  Not sure what but I'm convinced I'm going to become another one with AIDS-face.  Who can love a face like that?  Not a healthy scared child of a man, I guess.  I never could, either.

Irresolution

I emailed him again this morning.  In my early stages of waking I called to him, as I do every morning.  I slowly tossed and turned as the sun began to rise, the cold wind blowing through my open window, the sounds of birds and business.  His name repeats, constantly, within the slowly turning wheel of my mind.  I reach for him, still.  I long for him, still. 

This morning I was thinking about something he'd said to me regarding opportunities he's been given and things not working out.  He said that the things he most hopes for often don't pan out, and if they do they don't work out in a way that really makes much difference to his career.  I feel sad that he can't see all of the good things right in front of him.  If he could, he would be with me. 

He's working on a magazine project involving supermodels from the 90s.  Even though I told him only two days ago that I wasn't going to email him anymore I still decided to send him an affirmation this morning, as well as images that he could use as references.  His work is so beautiful, and I think that he is doing great things.  I want to remind him of my support, but I didn't mention anything about myself with this email. 

I told him recently that things aren't always black and white, but I think I've been thinking of things in black and white.  I've been thinking of how badly I want him back and how I need things now.  He keeps saying that where he's at right now doesn't allow it.  That doesn't mean there's no hope, but if he's unwilling to meet me half way then there's no hope.  He consistently proves he isn't. 

My respected older friends continue to say very wise things, my family continues to say very wise things.  My life continues to spiral out of my control.  My dreams continue to defy the reasonable.  I want him back.  I just want him back.  That's where all of my energy is going.  It's not reasonable, it's love. 

I hope he appreciates the email I sent him today.  I also sent him $200.  His horoscope keeps saying that money is causing him tons of stress lately.  I read his horoscope every day.  For the past 2 weeks or so it's been saying that he's got to turn his financial picture around.  I can't really afford to pay him the other $200 I still owe him.  I probably couldn't afford to pay him this amount, but I had it in the bank and I want him to have it.  I don't want to add to his stress. 

What with potentially having to move in addition to everything else I'm not really sure what is going to happen.  I don't know.  I am in so much of a state of flux that moving in any direction seems like the wrong choice.  Doing anything seems like the wrong thing to do.  Saying anything seems like the wrong thing to say.  Everything would be so much easier if I could just lean on him a little.  He's so afraid.  It must be that.

Going, Going, Gone

I just found out that my home life is in turmoil again.  My landlords want me out.  I was always the one who tried to assert my rights, when there was no heat, when there was no respect, when there was no understanding.  My roommates couldn't do it.  It got to the point where I wasn't even allowed to talk to them.  Now they've simply told one of the people I live with that they don't want me there anymore, because of my dog, or so they said.  I don't want to move.  I don't want another worry, another stress.

Yesterday I saw my love for the last time.  It was beautiful and sad.  He gave me two crystals, one a geode, the other I'm not sure what.  I gave him a bunch of stuff I wanted him to have, including a painting.  I gave him all the love I could.  Then he left and I gave him until the end of the night to change his mind.  I told him that by midnight I would stop.  I did.  I wept. 

I want things to work out.  I want to have JJ in a safe place that is home.  I want to have a home.  I want to have a sanctuary.  I want to have some peace.  I have so little.  I want my lover to hold me and kiss me when he comes home from work.  I want him to be with me.  He won't.  He just won't.  I'm so stressed out by all of this and AIDS and home. 

I am pouring my heart out on a blog that nobody reads.  I am pouring my heart out on Facebook, alienating all my friends.  I was pouring my heart out to my lover's deaf ears.  I don't know how I can keep having any heart to pour out.  I feel so empty.  I feel so drained. 

I just want to be held and protected, to be made to feel safe.  I just want things to be what they were two months ago.  Only two months ago I had it all.  I had the lover of my dreams, I had a home I felt safe in, I had a future, I had my health.  Now I have nothing at all.  Just burdens and responsibilities I can't possibly meet. 

Where is my love?  Where is my protector?  Where is the man who is supposed to stand by me?  I can't even call on him anymore.  I can't expect anything from him.  My whole world is falling apart and I can't even ask to be held or understood.  Kill me.  Kill me, please. 

Relationship

He says that he doesn't want a relationship.  He won't try.  Why do I keep trying?  I'm a fool.  He wasn't there for me when I needed him most.  Is he beating himself up over it?  Is he hurting?  Is he trying to avoid hurting me?  He says he is.  I'm hurting.  I want my man.  I want my love.  I want my husband.  He won't be any of those things. 

Yesterday I went to the Met with some friends, good friends.  We began discussing my love and they said, "fuck him."  Basically, their attitude is that he proved himself unworthy and that I need to cut my losses and fight my battle with AIDS.  One of them had leukemia and beat it, and he knows what it's like to fight for your health.  The irony is that earlier in the day my love had been telling me I was a part of his army of love and I responded that I wanted to be its commander-in-chief.  He won't even be a soldier.  He won't let me cuddle him or spend the night.  He won't let me do anything but hurt.

I thought that possibly being at his friend's wedding would open his eyes to how special love can be.  Turns out it didn't.  He keeps saying, "I can't be in a relationship."  I keep saying, "you already are."  That's selfish.  I'm being so selfish.  I just sent him an email telling him I want to stop being selfish.  I told him to come pick up his power cable for his projector and we would say farewell.  I have to stop bothering him.  I have to stop emailing him. 

I have to stop loving him.  I won't, though.  I never will.  I will always come running if he needs me.  I will always drop everything if he needs me.  I will always give him everything I have and everything I am.  I know it with a certainty and clarity that allows me to see years into the future.  I am so completely his. 

Wedding Day Blues

One of his best friends is getting married today.  I wouldn't have been allowed to attend even if we were still together, because of a series of events in which my feelings weren't taken into any consideration.  I was jealous of the physical intimacy shared by them, and I asked that it not occur around me so that I didn't have to see it.  Instead of dealing with it, I was told that it was my issue and that I was being unreasonable.  That led to further problems and eventually caused a breakdown in communication between his friend and I.  I've since apologized and I feel like we can do better in the future, should there come a time.

I want him to really think about what marriage means today.  I not only want him to think about what it means to himself and to his friends, but what it means to me.  I sent him the email, below, to try to provoke some thought.  I don't know if it's too much.  At this point, I feel like I'm talking to a wall.  I'll be able to see him tomorrow night, but I'll be working.  He's got to come in to take a power cable for a projector I bought him.  I probably ended up spending close to $1000.00 on him every month.  He's since said I'm not allowed to spend money on him.  He really doesn't understand how little money means to me, and how much seeing him smile does. 

"I hope you had a lovely day yesterday, surrounded by the warmth and love of true friends, and were able to sleep peacefully at the end of it.  I hope that you feel supported and loved by the many people around you, and that you are getting the attention you deserve and need.  I hope that that continues today while you partake in a celebration of true and lasting love, joy and festivity.  They really couldn't have found a more appropriate choice for best man.

You are my best man.  You are my only man.  While you're at this wedding, I am sure you will be very busy and barely have time to focus on the deep and meaningful bond shared by Krys and Michael.  I'm sure it's not always easy for them.  I'm sure they each have their doubts, insecurities, and issues.  I'm sure at times it takes a lot of hard work and determination.  Eventually, all love becomes a choice.  It is a choice between a loving partnership or selfishness.  It is not a honeymoon forever and sooner or later a person has to decide that there is something very special about this one person who has captured their heart and attention. 

You've captured my heart and attention, and you are the most special person in the world to me.  You've earned my devotion, you've been worthy of my love.  You've been kind, generous, sweet, endearing, and loving in the most powerfully effective way.  Things were very easy for a while.  Then they became work.  Then you made a choice not to. 

It's not too late.  I've worked so hard to try to show you what spending my life with you means to me.  I've worked so hard to show you how powerful my love is.  I've worked so hard to try to alleviate your doubts and insecurities.  I have them, too.  I've worked so hard to forgive the feelings of betrayal and abandonment that ripped my heart to pieces.  I've worked so hard to show you and tell you that I am here for you, still, even though you couldn't be there for me when it most mattered.  I never even paused or hesitated, and I never will, when I thought you were in trouble.  If you need me, I am here, ready to offer you all the love I have.  Ready to offer you everything I have.  Ready to offer you everything I am. 

I'm here for you, no matter what.  I'm yours, no matter what.  I love you, no matter what.  Until the day my heart stops beating, it beats for you.  You are a beautiful man, inside and out.  Some things you're sure of, like your talent.  Some things you doubt.  Some things you do exceptionally well.  Some things require more work.  You are not perfect.  You don't have to be perfect.  You are loved because of your talents and despite your doubts.  You are loved because of what you do well and despite your failings.  You are loved because you are human.  You are only one man, but you are the best man for me.

I will never give up on you."

I don't know whether I should stop sending these.  People keep telling me I should and let him come to me.  I don't know whether these emails are helping or hurting.  I don't know if I even have a chance.  I probably don't.  I don't unless he allows it.  I've gone as far as I can on my own.  It's completely up to him now.  I hope today he can think about some of these things.  

Loss

I had a very productive day yesterday despite having an awful headache.  I had a lunch meeting with a fellow artist who asked for help with Facebook.  Then I had a meeting for a show I'm curating.  Some very exciting things came out of that, as well as some great advice.  The wise, 72 year-old, and respected person I was meeting with starting talking to me about him and saying that I would be far more attractive if I made myself less available.  She said to just back off.  By the time I left she had convinced me that I was being a door mat, despite the integrity it takes to go after what I want.

I made my way home after that, hunger and headache in hand.  I couldn't decide what to eat, so I took some pain relievers and went to bed.  This was at 6:30.  Around 10 I woke up with incredibly persistent stomach cramps and no headache.  The pain was so terrible I was doubled over in bed.  My roommates were having some kind of party and there were all these people here, but I still managed to make it to the bathroom in time to throw up.  There wasn't really anything in my stomach, though, just this foul acid and chemical solution.

I went back to bed and just woke up.  I have a headache, but am afraid to take pain relievers, now.  I woke up to find I had missed an email from my love.  Another friend of his, his bestie from SF, has passed away.  How could I not respond to that email?  Now is not the time to play hard to get.  I responded with condolences and told him I was here for him.  I am here for him.  This is really hard.  This is the longest I have gone without sex, it is the longest I have gone without him, it is the longest I have gone in limbo.  I am in limbo.

I have to go to therapy.  My therapist must think I'm insane, not because of what I say, but because all I focus on is my love.  I have all of this other stuff to deal with and I only want to talk about him.  That's because I only want to be with him.  I wish I could be with him.  I wish he truly understood the value of what I have to offer him.  I can't play hard to get with him.  I have to be here for him, no matter what.  This is the hardest part.  Sometimes it's easier.  Sometimes it's harder.  This prolonged longing is almost too much for me.  I want my baby.  I want my man.

Affirmation

We went to MoMA yesterday and it was hard.  I followed him wordlessly.  I couldn't tell if he was running from me or to paintings.  He moved very quickly.  He got itchy and wouldn't let me help him scratch it.  I feel like he is so closed off.  He made time, though, and afterwards thanked me.  Later on I texted him that I'd been getting hard-ons all day thinking about how he looked.  He reminded me that I had once, in anger, referred to him as an overweight, aging porn star.  When I tried to explain the anger that caused those words there was no response.  Most of the time now I feel like I'm talking to a wall. 

I sent him this message first thing this morning:

"I hope that you had a great sleep last night after a wonderful day of productivity and inspiration.  You are loved.  You are a very special, SEXY, caring man with many wonderful talents.  You are loved for those parts of you as well as for the parts you are working on improving.  You are loved for everything you are, with no conditions.  There is so much to love about you.  There is so much to respect about you.  While you continue to build an even more deep and meaningful life this love will be there for you, unceasingly.  You never have to doubt it, you never have to fear losing it.  You only need to accept it and be peaceful. 

You know that there's nobody more sexy than you in the entire world.  I love your face, with your angled brown eyes that crinkle when you laugh and your soft pink lips that smile so sweetly.  I love your tongue and the way it feels in my mouth, licking my ass, or teasing my ear while you fuck me from behind.  I love your ears, they are so cute and perfectly shaped.  I love your hair, that delightful dark brown on top with the signs of maturity on the sides is incredibly sexy.  I love that scar on the back of your head.  I love your neck and how soft your skin is leading down into a hard muscular body.  I love your chest, with all that sexy chest hair and soft pink nipples.  I love your stomach and your tasty belly button.  I love your ass, so round and firm and wonderful to bury my face in.  I love your legs, with great calves and sexy knees.  I love your feet, the way the skin is always soft and none of the toes are misshapen.  I love your balls.  I love how they hang and are so velvety and full.  I love how you always shoot big loads of hot juicy cum.  I love your dick.  I love how long long it is and how it gets so hard.  I love how smooth and how it curves up.  I love how you use it.  I love how you use your whole body.  I wish you were using your whole body on me now.  I'm dripping pre-cum from my morning wood while I think about all of the parts of your body.

This is the longest I have gone without sex since before I moved to NYC.  I have had opportunities, and offers, but I do not want to have sex with anybody but you.  I never did.  Even when I thought I did, it was because I missed you, because I needed you, and I was so hopeless.  Nobody compares to you.  Nothing compares to you.  There is only you.  When I masturbate, I either stare at photos of you or close my eyes and imagine your body pressed up against me from behind.  I think about all of those parts of your body that I love so much.  I wish I had been a better lover for you.  I wish I had been the best lover you ever had.  All of this is meant to show you how sexy you are.  All of this is meant to heal the wound I caused with stupid callous words.

I love you.  I love everything about you.  Clothed or naked, speaking or silent, sleeping or awake, I send you love with my whole heart.  I am sending you love now.  I am sending you soft lover's kisses and a man's strong hug.  I know you may never again find me attractive or compliment-worthy, but for me there is only you.  There is nobody but you.  You rise above every other man in sexiness.  You rise above every other man in talent.  You rise above every other man in kindness.  You rise above every other man in my esteem.  If you took a picture of my heart's desires you would see yourself clearly, and you would never doubt how special you are.  You would never doubt how wonderful you are.  You would know that you are loved completely."

He responded by thanking me, telling me I should have sex with other people, and that he was going to be turning off his phone today to astral project.  I need so much and all he is doing is allowing me to give.  That's progress, but I'm damned impatient.  I keep hinting that I need a compliment.  He told me he feels ugly and I spent a lot of effort proving he wasn't.  I don't tell him I feel ugly.  I do, though.  What he's not seeing is that I need him to be there for me, too.  He won't.  I wonder if he ever will. 

Getting what you want to want

I sent him this this morning:

"I hope that you had a wonderfully peaceful relaxing sleep and that if you dreamed they were pleasant and calming dreams.  Today will be another busy and hard day for you, I'm sure.  There are so many rewards to the energy and time you are putting into your work.  Please remember that there are plenty of other types of rewards, too.  It is important to have a balanced and healthy life.  Make sure you eat well, take appropriate breaks, and take time to give and receive love.  These things will help keep you strong enough to keep reaching for the stars. 

I love you so much.  I loved you before we met.  I will love you until the day I die, possibly before.  I knew I loved you the first night you held me in your arms while we lay in your bed and I felt your soft and loving kiss on my back.  My heart completely melted for you that night.  You are everything I ever wanted in a man.   I love your focus and dedication, I love your determination.  I love you.  I simply love you.  This love is not here to judge you, it is not here to be demanding, it is not here to take from you.  This love is here to accept you as you are, it is here to offer you everything I am, it is here to give. 

The reason I keep asking to see you and be with you is because I want to give to you.  You already own my heart and soul.  I hope you know that.  My body is yours, too.  When I think of someone else touching me I feel physically ill.  What I really want to give to you is just a few precious moments of a lover's touch.  I want to press my beating heart up against yours.  I want to press my soft cheek up against yours.  I want to show you en entire human being that KNOWS you are the most perfect man for him.  Again, not perfect, but perfect for me. 

I dream of you every night.  Sometimes I wake up crying from those dreams.  I reach for you, first thing in the morning.  I long for you last thing at night.  I love you.  My love is never going to go anywhere.  It is always going to be here for you.  You don't have to do anything for it.  You don't have to focus on it, you don't have to drop everything for it.  I will always be the love you need.  I will always encourage you, support you, and pull you up when you are down.  Because I believe in you, I will try to add the balance and enrichment to your life that you sometimes forget you need. 

I feel like you were finally honest with me about a few very important things.  I hope you feel empowered by that.  You never have to be anything but honest with me, and I will still love you, still support you.  I am building a bridge back to your heart.  I hope you will meet me halfway.  Don't label or limit my love.  I've told you that for me there is only one man on earth, and that is you.  You are the one.  I know that you consider yourself a broken man.  Work on healing yourself, and let me love help. 

When you are weak, I will carry you.  When you are successful, I will applaud you.  When you are scared, I will be a light for you.  When you are sad, I will kiss your tears away.  When you are tired, I will sing you the sweetest lullaby.  When you feel alone, I will remind you that you are never alone.  I am with you.  I am always with you.  When and if you ever decide to reward my love, I will be there physically, lying beside you, listening to you breathe.  You don't have to ever decide that, and I will still be here, still be loving you, still be offering you everything I have and everything I am.  It is already yours and yours alone. 

I love you and am eternally yours."

He responded that he is going to give himself to the world.  I told him that he is mine.  We had a long chat where he explained that he doesn't want to be monogamous or husbands.  I think I still expect him to change his mind.  I'm not sure if I'm being fair to him by not telling him what I want.  I told him it has to be him.  I told him I was being hit on and that I keep turning people down.  He said he wished I wouldn't.  I said it has to be him.  It does have to be him.

We are going to MoMA in an hour.  He will have an hour to spend with me.  I am really looking forward to seeing him.  When he is at a museum he just looks at the work, retreats into his own head.  He doesn't need any conversation.  I just want to hold his hand.  I want to put my head on his shoulder.   I do need him. 

He told me that he belongs to the world, that he wants to give himself to the world.  He belongs to me.   He already gave himself to me.  I keep thinking that I want him to give me a real commitment and be a real partner so we can work this out.  He keeps saying that he wants to be free.  I am not being fair to either of us.  I don't know what to do. 

Truth and Lies

I sent the following in an email to him:

"I hope you had a restful night and are waking up refreshed and eager to start a beautiful autumn day.  I'm sure that you worked hard enough yesterday that you're mostly caught up and I'm glad that you had someone to help you.  You deserve to be supported and aided when you need it. 

I hope that today you can really start to understand how valuable love is, and my unconditional, unending, completely devoted love for you especially.  There is so much healing power in being truly loved for exactly who you are.  You don't have to control it, manipulate it, deserve it, earn it, or seek it.  It is always here.  It is a beacon in the darkness guiding your spirit to a place of safety and warmth where all you have to do is be true to yourself.  It is home.  It is peace.  It is the greatest achievement of your life having instilled a love like this.  It is is true.  It is deep.  It is meaningful.

Who you are is a wonderful man.  Your talents and skills are a big part of that, but beyond that you have so many wonderful qualities.  The way you treat your friends and strangers is a testament to your kindness and thoughtfulness.  The way you make work shows a playful side and innocence, even after all you've been through.  The way you take care of yourself shows a genuine desire for betterment.  The way you live shows a great deal of integrity and responsibility.  The way you treat animals shows a deep capacity for compassion and love.  The way you smile shows that there is an abundance of inner beauty that lights up your soul. 

You are loved.  You are loved in the most powerful way solely for the person you are, not the person you portray but the person you would sometimes rather not admit to.  That person is not perfect.  There are a lot of things that need improvement, but you have the strength and the power to make positive changes.  You will have support in doing that.  You will have love in doing that.  You don't have to be perfect.  You only have to be yourself. 

Please relax and be at peace.  When you close your eyes, imagine a soft pink light dancing over your skin leaving tiny angel kisses everywhere.  That is the light of my love.  It is always with you."

What I really wanted to say is:

"How can you not recognize how wonderful I am even after our roles have been reversed and I still showed you how much stronger, capable, forgiving, and loving I am?"

When he needed me I was completely there for him.  I never wasted a second before saying, "no.  I am here.  You are not alone."  He did the opposite.  When I needed him, he fled.  I needed him more than he needs me.  He needs me because he made a choice to go off his meds.  I need him because I had AIDS and just want to be held and told I'm not a pariah, I'm not going to just waste away and never be loved again.

I am trying not to pressure him.  I am trying not to ask for anything.  It is hard.  I need so much.  I had a dream about him again, every night I do.  In last night's we were talking about shoes and viscocity.  It became a disagreement because I was trying to explain something about the soles of shoes and he thought he knew better.  At one point he started telling me about all of these people he had been having sex with this past weekend.  I just wept.  In my dream and in real life I wept.  I hate waking up in tears.  It's so hard to smile for the rest of the day.  It's been happening almost every day for me, though.

I want to pressure him.  I want to say, "don't you know what you have here?"  I want to say, "don't you know that you don't deserve a love as good as this?"  A smart person would recognize that and do everything they can to grab onto it and hold on.  I am out of hope.  I am out of faith.  Now, the only thing I can do is continue to support and love this man while he regains mental strength enough to once again take my heart with him when he goes.

Limbo Again

I know he was busy yesterday with a friend's wedding, but once again I'm in limbo as he just stopped responding to me.  I sent him a text message from my new phone number telling him he should call or text whenever he couldn't sleep, needed an affirmation, or just missed me.  No response.  I was hoping that being at the wedding of two people who really love each other would remind him of the love he has for me and how important that is.

He says he's seeking depth and meaning in his life.  I am offering those things.  It is deep and meaningful to love someone at their weakest, and in their darkest hour.  To hold on when all your instincts say flee.  That is strength, too.  That is what I'm proving to him.  I have the strength.  I have the ability to love him.

I wish he would let me.  He came part of the way to meet me.  I'm waiting in the middle.  Someone, a mutual friend, who is very wise said that it takes two people to build the bridge and meet halfway.  I'm not saying that I'm perfect and I don't have a lot of work to do, but he has more work to do to get to me.    I just want to hold him.

He emailed me this morning, as I was writing this.  He keeps saying things like, "thank you for being a good friend," and "your friendship is what is really important."  He is using this situation to continue to push his agenda.  I guess I am doing the same thing.  There is real love beneath it all and that's what I'm trying to get him to focus on.  I wish I could have everything I wanted, but the main thing that matters to me is that I don't have to attend his funeral prematurely.

I just want him to live.  I miss him so much already but knowing that he's not even in the world anymore would be a far worse punishment.  I guess part of that is because I can still have hope while he's alive, but I know that there's very little hope.  He has made up his mind and he refuses to see any alternative.  I see all of the alternatives.  I see all of the paths laid out before us.  There is only one I will not accept, and that is one where he hasn't made it through this.

Erased

I saw him last night.  We had been talking and I think I finally go through to him, at least a little bit.  He is still trying to hold on to walls and coldness, I could see it in his eyes, but they were being lost by actual love.  He was supposed to come to my cafe, and as I was eating my staff meal he drove up, looked in, didn't see me, and drove off.  He didn't even get off his bike.

Luckily, my coworker saw him and pointed him out so I ran out of the cafe and yelled, "wait!"  He stopped.  It wasn't like in a movie.  It was just two people with complications trying, I don't know what he was trying.  I was trying to make him see me.  Just that.  I could see his face wrestling with everything inside of him.  I could see coldness and warmth.  I hope the warmth wins out.

I really want him back.  He is so sexy and so many good things live inside of him.  I wonder what he saw when he looked at me.  I wonder if he thought I was sexy.  I hope so.  I hope he liked my blue hair.  I miss him.  I asked if I could come over tonight and cook him dinner and he said no, quite vehemently, but then softened and said he had to deal with the wedding of two friends.

I left him an emergency kit for panic attacks that I made.  It is made to distract him.  I put stickers all over it, and on the envelope I wrote the words, "Love is here to help you."  Inside I put a picture of me, some temporary tattoos of puppies and hearts, a hamster sticker, and a letter I wrote in which I'm guiding him through breathing techniques while helping him to shift his focus from the panic.  These attacks are only supposed to last for 20 minutes.  I wish he would call me if he is feeling an attack coming on.

He can't because I still don't have a phone.  I need to go get one.  I really need to go get one.  I have the $500 deposit I require, but rent is due and I'm not sure when the check I'm expecting will arrive.  Plus I owe him money, I owe another person money.  I need a phone, though.  I'm torn about what my priority should be.  I have too many things to do not to have a phone.  Also, if I pay for it today then I will only have a few dollars to my name.

I sent him a note this morning.  I said to stop trying to control everything, and stop putting so much energy into keeping walls up.  I said to just let things flow.  I hope he can process that.  I told him I wasn't going to pressure him, but that my love wasn't going anywhere, ever.  That is true.  Even after all of this, I'm still here for him.  One word about how he's not ok and I am right back.  There is nothing he could ever do that I would not forgive.

I do wonder why he couldn't do that for me.  The only thing I can say is that he's got severe mental issues.  Somewhere inside of him, I do believe the love is there.  Somewhere inside of him I do believe he knows how lucky he is.  He must.  He's no fool.  He's a 41 year old man who's been dealing with issues his whole life.  The only difference is that now those issues have met me!

Waiting

He really scared me yesterday.  Not at first, but later on.  At first he threw me off of my grudging hatred.  After all of the things he said to me, to just apologize made the flames spread again.  When there's a spark the fire hasn't died.  A little air is all it takes.  Then we started having a real conversation.  I told him that he had to put real work and real effort into creating meaning in his life, and that it was never going to be easy.  It wasn't easy with me, and I did the majority of the work.

Then he started sending me emails about how he's a failure, he's old, he agrees with all of the things I said to him.  I felt so terrible.  I was trying to be loving in what I wrote and help him to reach higher and do better, but I'm sure there was lingering bitterness that he couldn't be with me.  He began saying he hated his life and he wishes it were over.  He began alluding to cutting.  I became very scared and offered to go meet him but when I asked where he was he just said, "gone."

Eventually I got it out of him that he was waiting for his shrink, but I tried to get back in touch with him an hour later and he wasn't responding.  By this point I was so worried that I thought he may have checked himself into the psych ward.  I was so worried.  All I wanted to do was hold him and tell him how special he is and that everything will be alright.

Everything will not be alright.  We don't live in that kind of world.  Who knows what's going to happen?  I certainly don't.  A few hours later he emailed to say he had just gotten home, had gotten some pills, and was going to rest because he hadn't slept in 48 hours.  My poor man.  I miss him so much and I'm so scared and sad for him.

One thing that this situation reinforced in me is that my pride and ego really don't matter.  When I found out he was not doing his best I immediately went into protective loving mode.  That's what love is; it's a shifting of priorities when it really matters.  It's watching every petty problem disappear when the one you love is in trouble.  It's putting everything aside to focus on their needs.

My shrink had said to me, earlier in the day, that it sounded as though I put most of the work into the relationship.  I had.  I still would.  I still want him.  I will always want him.  The people who love me tell me I'm a fool and are angry that I would go back with him, even at this point, if he would only let me.

I'm not sure that will ever happen.  I felt like there was a real breakthrough of honesty last night, but that could be just sleep deprivation and being off his meds.  It's so hard when someone has these mind-altering substances as a part of their life, to keep them normal.  I hope he realizes by now that when the going gets tough I am there for him.  I will never stop being there for him, no matter what.

Progress/Regress

Like a tide i flow back and forth.  I had almost convinced myself that I hated him.  I am so angry and it was fueling a rage against him.  I don't hate him.  I love him.  I want to keep loving him.  I miss everything about him. 

Last night we had a very heated and intense email exchange.  I told him that a demon had replaced the man I loved and that the real man was dead.  I told him to seek out meaning and goodness and truth.  His responses were hisses and calling me a snake, telling me I destroyed him.  I told him he destroyed himself.  I used my anger and outrage to fuel my strength.  I am strong.  I am a survivor.

I'm listening to Destiny's Child now.  I'm not going to give up.  I'm going to work harder.  I wish he would come back to me.  I truly wish that.  Even after everything he's done.  It would take more work than he's every put into anything.  It would be the greatest triumph of his life.  It would be the greatest triumph of my life.

After last night, I can't cry anymore.  He kept saying I was showing my true colors, but in reality he was showing his.  He was showing just how badly he wants me to hurt.  He was showing me just how cruel he can be.  I kept trying to tell him that I loved the man he was and that this evil thing he's done to me can't be that same man.  It just can't be.

This morning he apologized, in an email.  Not for everything, only for the things he said last night.  I told him I wished I could hate him.  I also reminded him that I had no prior reason to doubt I was hiv negative.  I had been tested, and I had not done anything too risky.  The only risky behavior I engaged in was with him.  He still claims he's negative.

I want to hate him.  I want to love him.  I want him to love me.  I wish he had the courage to do it.  That is all he lacks. 

In Sickness and Health

I am really ill.  I think I may have missed a day of my Bactrim, and when I took it yesterday it gave me a very severe reaction that made me so useless at work.  There is never anyone to cover me.  All I normally do there is stare out the window hoping that my love will come through.  I guess this is denial, because I still, to this day two months later, have faith that he will come for me.  He must come for me.  That's what love does.

Love can't die, can it?  I have never been in love with anyone the way I am with him.  I recognize in retrospect that a lot of the problems in our relationship had to do with him treating me as though I wasn't good enough.  He wouldn't announce our engagement.  He wouldn't let me go out with him.  He just wanted me to stay at home, cook his meals, and cuddle with him.  I was fine with that.  Why was I fine with that?  Because it was all I ever wanted.  I don't need to go out.  I just need to be loved.  I just need to be loved by him.

There exists in the gay world this pseudo-mysogyny, and my love was the "man" while I was the "woman."  He didn't want me to be his equal, though he said he did.  He always treated me as inferior.  I wonder if this is because of his own belief in his talents.  Since we broke up people keep telling me they're not fans of his work.  I've been thinking that it's kind of sad that someone his age still feels they have to coast on their looks in order to succeed with their talent.

That's just anger talking.  I'm so angry at him.  Especially now that I'm sick.  He's supposed to be here for me.  That's what happens when you propose to someone.  You should already have decided that you can take the vows and fulfill them.  I don't need an accessory for my finger.  I need a love for my life.  I wish it could be him, even still.

A friend was supposed to have a photo shoot with me tomorrow but he keeps canceling.  I've been trying to plan this for a month but every week he says, "next week."  As though I don't feel cast aside enough, this constantly being put off by someone I go out of my way for repeatedly is just adding to my stress.  I've been working too much and too hard because I owe my love money, I owe on the last gift I bought him, I don't have a phone, and rent is almost due.  I hate my life.

I do hate my life.  I hate everything about it.  I hate that I screwed up the most wonderful thing I ever had.  I hate that I am alone when all I want is to lie in his arms.  I am starting to hate him for what he's done to me.  I don't want to hate him.  I went on his Facebook and "reported" all the photos that had dicks on it.  It was petty and spiteful.  I don't want him to be ok while I suffer.  Part of me wants him to be ok because I still love him, but the part of me that loves him is dying.  He's killing it by staying away.

I miss him so much.  Every second.  I had a nap today and a feverish dream.  He had come back to me and won my heart back over.  It was so easy.  Then a bunch of what he calls "A gays" came over and they were all catching rides to a Taylor Swift concert.  Somehow, we got separated and he got in a car without me, and they all just drove off, leaving me.  I had no phone.  I couldn't call, or anything.  I was standing in the middle of the street just crying. 

I dream about him every night.  I wake up crying out for him.  I go to sleep hoping tomorrow he will come back to me.  He won't.  I know by now that if he was going to he would have.  There is nothing I can do.  I have lost the one true love I've ever known.  I have lost the man of my dreams.  I have lost the lover who was never perfect, but was always perfect for me. 

Never Too Late

It's not too late for him to prove that he meant it when he told me his love was unconditional.  He broke so many promises during this period, but I haven't broken a single promise to him.  I did promise to leave him alone, and I have.  If he knew how difficult this is for me he, if he could only see into my heart and soul, he would forgive me and work towards rebuilding what we had.

He says he wants to remain friends.  I would never be friends with someone who betrayed me this way.  I would never be friends with someone who threatened me the way he has.  I would never be friends with someone who could just stomp all over my feelings.  I don't know how he thinks this is possible.  He told me he was angry that I was rejecting his friendship.  He rejected everything special about me, and the only thing that is truly mine to give: my love. 

I wish he would come to his senses.  As the days go by it seems impossible.  The distance between us only grows.  I miss him more with each passing day, not less.  I guess I am in denial, because I really can't believe he would do this to me.  I really can't believe that he would abandon me to this disease, that his love was so weak.  I really can't believe everything about him that I loved could simply disappear overnight.

I'd like to blame him.  I would like to blame him for everything.  I would like to blame him for all of the problems we had.  I can't.  I don't.  I love him.  There is no way I would be friends with someone who did this to someone they love.  If he asked for forgiveness and came back to me, though, he could.  I would forgive everything and anything.  My love for him is unconditional.  I will never give up on that love, and I will never give up on the goodness inside of him.

This makes it so much harder to move on.  I don't want to move on.  I'm so surprised every day when I wake up and he hasn't emailed me to say that we can work it out.  He really doesn't want to work it out?  Really?!  How he can just switch off like a light switch is another twist of the blade buried deep in my chest. 

I am tired.  I am not sleeping well.  One night with him and I would sleep soundly.  One night in his arms and all of the sorrows and tears of the past few months would disappear.  Someone else is there, now.  I'm not sure who.  He told me he's seeing other people.  Someone else is getting his attention, fueling his ego, igniting his passion.  I wish it could be me.  It is only he that can do it for me. 

Again I will spend the night at my cafe job, staring out the window, hoping against hope that he will come by.   I could use a hug.  I could stand to have him tell me everything will be ok.  I could stand for him to say that he remembers the good things, that he knows we can overcome anything, together.  But we are not together.  I am alone.  He has left me alone in my darkest hour, to face this disease while simultaneously suffering the greatest loss I have ever felt.  My sweet angel has left me alone in hell.

Koala Bear

I had the most wonderful dream.  In it there was a black panther loose in the town, that I decided to help lead into the forest so that it could escape animal control and potential death.  Me and an Alsacian dog were goading it and somehow convincing it to go deeper into the woods to escape.  Somehow this brought me to my love.

At one point in the dream I was in a thrift shop and I saw all of these stuffed animals.  I asked for a koala bear and found one for him.  He's my little koala bear.  He's so cute.  When all of the bad news was happening I reminded him of that and he said, "koala bears move very slowly."

Because of the black panther we ended up going for coffee.  He drove, I was in the back seat.  He had brought a friend as a buffer, probably so I couldn't make a scene.  At one point he had a long beard and at another his trim goatee that is so sexy.  He was sexy either way.  I got him alone for a few minutes and told him how much I still loved him.  He brought up sex and I mentioned that I only wanted him and wasn't having sex with anyone else.  That made him smile.

In the dream, this coffee date became repeated a couple of times.  It was so nice to see him.  I tried to stay asleep so I could continue having this wonderful dream, but I woke up, way too early, again.  When I closed my eyes, he was gone.  When I opened my eyes, he's still gone.  I wish I could get him to admit that we had a really good thing, worth holding on to.

The irony is that he's not afraid of hard work.  He's put tons of energy into his career, his body and his mind.  He's seen therapists, dealt with addiction, been up and down.  The one thing he doesn't care for is putting work into a relationship.  When things get the least bit stressful he runs away, just puts his tail between his legs and cowers, covering his insecurity up with anger.

When we used to fight, it happened three times, he would always do this.  I would cry and tell him how much it hurt me that he behaved this way.  A few days later he would send me a text message saying, "you hate me."  I thought it was so cute.  Of course I didn't, I would respond.  I could never hate him.  I love him.  He has my whole heart.  He has my whole soul.  I gave those to him.  He's crushing one and stomping on the other, but they're his, still.

Unfortunately, he hates me.  He must, at this point, if he could resort to the type of behavior he's exhibiting.  If he could make the sort of threats he's made, and just completely disregard his promises to me.  That has to be hate.  It sure isn't love.  I wish he still loved me.  I miss his love.  I miss him.  I don't even have a phone anymore, but I wish my little koala bear would send me those three words that signal this might all come to an end very soon: "you hate me."  NO, I don't.

One thing he said to me in my dream was, "you're lucky you have someone to curl up beside and cuddle every night," meaning my dog.  I responded that my dog was a poor substitute for the man I love.  There is no substitute for the man I love.  

Mantra

His horoscope still says that his mantra is: "a pure heart is the greatest weapon."  I wish he could really see that, think about it, and process it.  I don't think his heart is being very pure.  I went back over our earlier text messages, and I really feel like most of this situation is my fault.  If I had just sat back and given him the space and time to process, things might have been different.  Maybe they wouldn't have, but I do feel I pushed him away by trying so hard to prove to him how much he meant to me.

He still means the world to me.  Last night I was hired to work this party and one of our mutual friends was there.  This is a person who I was trying to convince to purchase one of his artworks, and she felt the need to tell me she never really cared for his work but always felt he had a winner in me.  I was a winner.  I was always very supportive.  I would find out something he wanted and put all of my energy into making it happen.

Even now, I've just seen that he posted about this jacket he wants.  He's been wanting this jacket for almost a year now.  I wish I had the cash to buy it for him.  He deserves nice things.  I wish I could have bought him everything he wants.  I spoiled him enough.  This lady from last night was saying that I did so much networking for him and worked out studio visits and genuinely showed that I was 100% behind him, and that he's a fool for letting that go.  I agree, but I also know it's much more complicated than that.

He's much more complicated than that.  I know he has issues and that he's not being loving or kind to do this, but it's not very simple.  My love for him is not very simple.  I love him truly from the deepest parts of my soul.  He said it was my ego when I told him I felt like the best part of me had been cut away.  Maybe he's not even truly capable of the kind of love I feel.  If he was, he'd be with me.  I begged him.

I kept begging him.  I don't know what I could have done differently, except not cheat, and not have AIDS.  Well, there's a lot that I could have done differently, but I wasn't coming from a desire to ruin the good thing I had, I was coming from a loving place where I was trying to get the love I deserved.  I know I deserve it.  I still deserve it, even after all of the major problems.  I deserve the kind of love I want.  The kind of love I want comes from him, though, and I can't make the right choice for him.

He got very angry when we last spoke and I said that he should still do the right thing.  He asked, "how dare you tell me what the right thing is for me?"  The right thing is to stand by someone you love, no matter who you are.  Everyone knows that.  He said the people he respect tell him he's doing the right thing.  Most of those people are washed up has-beens whose fleeting fame isn't even enough to support their current lifestyle and who are so lonely and without love that they may not be capable of it, anymore.  One day he will wake up and realize he spent too much time chasing a dream that is incapable of fulfilling him.  Chasing fame, over love, is not the right thing, for anyone.

I miss him.  It doesn't help me when he's a jerk.  It doesn't help me when other people tell me he's a jerk.  It doesn't help me when other people try to convince me how much better than him I am.  I never wanted to be better than him.  I only ever wanted to be better with him; and I was.

Give ourselves away

Listening to a new Tori Amos song.  She just got to the part where she says, "we give ourselves away thinking that will make him want to stay."  I gave a lot of myself, but I didn't feel I was giving myself away.  I felt like I gained way more than I sacrificed.  One thing I kept saying to him when I was trying to convince him to stay was that the good outweighed the bad.  I still feel that the good outweighs the bad.

The bad is pretty bad.  I can admit that.  There's not a whole lot worse for a gay man than having AIDS.  This is when family means the most.  This is when you band together, not fly apart.  He was supposed to be my family.  He was supposed to be the one who would hold me while I cried.  Now I can't even talk to him.  I can't even reach for the one person who could make this better.  It will never be 100% again, but it could be better.  It can't be much worse.

I spent most of yesterday decorating a midtown loft for a circus/burlesque party.  It was a lot of work and I feel like I did an inspired job.  I just buried myself in it after therapy.  I want to just take my career all the way.  I gave up so much of my time and energy to devote it to his star.  I don't regret that.  He's worth it.  Now I just have something to prove, and I am proving it.

I have to go to this party tonight.  I am so not in a party mood.  I don't really want to be around tons of people, and I don't really want to smile and be friendly.  I want to hide.  I want to hide in his arms.  He will never let me do that again.  He is so angry at me.  My shrink reinforced my belief that his anger is getting the best of him, and that's why he's lashing out.  She asked me if it makes it any easier to let him go.  It doesn't.  He is better than that.  He is better than this.  I just wish he would remember that.

He has said some really hurtful things to me.  He's trying to hurt me, at this point.  I can't hurt any more than I already do.  I'm simply at capacity for pain.  I have never hurt like this.  I have never been so completely destroyed by the actions of another person.  Inaction, rather, because it's not what he's doing, but what he failed to do.  He failed me.  He failed himself.  He failed our love.  He may never realize that.  I do.

I was trying to avoid looking at his Tumblr account, but my sister started telling me he's not as hot as I think he is, so I went on to remind me.  He's hotter than I think he is.  He is the sexiest man in the world.  His face is perfect, he's got the cutest head.  He's got the hottest body.  I jerked off looking at photos of him, a magical ritual of self-gratification.  This was after I stopped talking to my sister.

One thing I saw on his Tumblr is that he's using the backpack I sent him as a birthday present.  I felt warmed by that.  He was having shoulder pain from carrying a bag that hangs off one shoulder.  I found a fairly inexpensive black bag with a ribcage design on it that I knew he would love.  I saw a photo of him wearing it.  That made me smile for the first time in a while.  I hope it helps his shoulders.  He never thanked me for it, but seeing him use it is all the thanks I need.

This morning I woke up and reached for the hand of a stuffed Lorax he gave me.  The cute little yellow fellow is so soft and just sits with two other stuffed animals he gave me.  I have them at the head of my bed.  I wrote his bed there, first.  I still think of myself and everything I own as his.  I don't give myself away so easily.  The first thing I did was grab that tiny hand and close my eyes, imagining it was my love's hand, imagining I was reaching for the comfort I need, and getting it.

I wonder if he's getting my psychic messages.  He told me I was being manipulative and disrespectful for posting things about him.  I wonder if he thinks my psychic calls are disrespectful, too.  I call out to him all day long.  I beg him to come back to me.  I beg him to be kind to me.  I beg him to love me.  It's been a month and a half since I've become this psychic beggar.

Logistics

I had to have him cut off my phone yesterday.  He has resorted to being threatening and very unkind.  I posted something on a mutual friend's wall and he texted me in a very abusive way.  I told him that I deserve better than this and that he is better than this.  We conversed through text message and then had a brief phone call.  He was an asshole, that's the only word to describe it.

He is no longer the man I loved so ardently.  I wish I could get that man back.  I don't want this new one, the one who consistently stomps on my heart and belittles what we had.  I am so sad that I have to not only mourn the loss of love, but the death of my respect for him.  He is a child, after all.  I miss him so much.

I tried to move on and get my work done.  I finished a project for which I am very satisfied, though it was stressful and it's been ongoing during this entire period.  I wish it had required more work so I could have been busier.  I need to be busier.  Today I will begin installation for an event on Saturday that I've been hired to do.

It doesn't make it any easier that he is being so unkind.  It makes it harder.  I have to go to my therapy and blood work appointment so that I can have a genotype and some mental health.  I am pretty confident I'm not going to seem like a total basket case today, but if I am that's the place to do it, instead of the social forums I keep using, and this blog.  I know I'm a basket case.  I miss the love of my life, daily.

He may not ever come back to me.  He may not ever regret his decision.  I am superior to him in so many ways, and I am inferior in so many ways.  One of the ways I know I am better is that I would never ever close my heart off to someone I love.  He says he's offering me a friendship, but he can't be my friend.  He can't even stand to be around me.  I need to lie next to him.  I need to feel his kiss.  I need to feel loved.

Last night, in a moment of desperation I posted an add in the m4m section of Craig's List.  It said "Make Me Feel Beautiful" in the heading, and "Give it your best shot" in the body.  Nobody responded, but I wouldn't have wanted them too, anyway.  The one person who I needed to respond was my love.  He won't.  He just won't.

The Most Wonderful Dream

I had the most wonderful dream, one which I just woke up from.  We were in San Fransisco and I was meeting him on the beach so that we could talk, just talk.  He had a bike and was very friendly.  It gave me hope.  Then we went to a store where he began telling me about this fancy fold-up chair he had just purchased, and somehow we ended up taking a cab to the middle of nowhere to walk through snowy fields.  We both had long hair, his beautifully silvered and mine parted in the middle.  We were together.  We were talking.  I wish we could talk.

I texted him yesterday.  The pretext was that I had received a note from AT&T that we were nearing some limit for our bill.  I know it was only pseudo-legitimate to text him in that context.  I just sent him the information hoping it would open the lines of communication.  It didn't.  He didn't respond.  He must hate me.  I wish he could love me.  I wish I could make him love him, or at least remind him of all the good things.

There were so many good things.  Simple pleasures like waking up together.  He once thanked me for getting him out of the online hook-up world.  Now he is probably right back there.  I have to have him back.  Forever, for the rest of my life.  I can't keep doing this without him.  I have the strength, but I don't have the will.  I need him, not because I depend on him, but because everything is so much better with him.  Food tastes better, sleep is more peaceful, sex is wonderful.

One of the great tragedies of this whole thing is that we could finally have been safe.  I could finally have stopped putting him at risk.  I never wanted that.  If I had known I would never have done anything to endanger him.  I love him and would never want to hurt him.  I want him to be safe and successful.  I want him to live a long and healthy life.  I want to be there to take care of him when he gets old.  I want to make his life easier, not more complicated.

I've been reminding myself that I deserve better.  I don't mean better than him.  There is nobody better than him.  I mean better treatment by him.  There's a really heartbreaking scene in Angels In America where a negative man leaves his positive partner and goes to talk to his rabbi.  The rabbi shakes his head and basically says, "how could you do that to someone you love?"  I don't want my love to feel guilt, I want him to feel compassion.  I want him to have mercy on me.  I deserve it.

I still read his horoscope every day.  His mantra lately has been "a pure heart is the greatest weapon."  I have a pure heart and I am impotent.  His heart is clouded with doubt, insecurity, anger, fear, and I don't even know what else.  His heart is punishing mine.  Every day I grow more tired and sad, not because I don't have love, talent, and the drive to succeed, but because it is so much harder without my own one true love.  I just need to remind him that I am also his.

Strength

People keep telling me I have to be strong, I will make it through this.  What they don't realize is that it's taking all of the strength I have to be respectful of his desire that I not contact him.  Every ounce of strength I have every day goes into not cajoling, begging, pleading, reasoning, trying.  The hardest thing I do is stop trying.  It must be him.  I must have him back.

I got a text message from our phone service provider today, telling me I'm near the limit of my data plan.  It gave me hope that maybe he will contact me and I will have an excuse to talk to him.  I would tell him I deserve better.  I would say that I hope he's remembering that I most often put his feelings before my own and that I was happy to do so.  I would say that I'm the one you break your rules for.  I would say that I'm worth it.  That would probably just annoy him. 

It's only been one week since we last spoke, but the drama continued until Friday.  That means he's had five days of peace from me.  That doesn't include anything online, if he's seen what I've been posting.  I made a beautiful movie about him that I posted online.  It's a love letter.  I hope he watches it.  He probably won't.  I just don't know how to get through to him. 

Another early morning of repeating the mantra, "please come back to me."  Today will be the day.  I feel it.  I felt the same way yesterday.  I don't know how I'm expected to go through with this.  I don't know how he is going through with this.  He must miss me.  He must miss the little things I did to make his life easier, and my sweet smile.  He must miss the way I looked at him.  I wonder if he even noticed. 

How am I supposed to be strong?  My body is weak, my heart is broken, my life is cold.  I am swimming upstream just to get to a place called normal.  I need help.  I need him.  I just want him back.  For the rest of my life, I would do everything it takes to make sure he never had another reason to doubt me.  He's supposed to pull me closer.  He's supposed to love me. 

He May Never Come Back to Me

I woke up at 5 this morning after getting to bed around 1:30.  I'm not sure what woke me, whether it was the dream I was having that I was going to miss my flight from Alberta to New York, or some shift by the dog.  Whatever did it, did it well, and I could not fall back asleep but only keep repeating my mantra for him.  Please come back to me.  It's all I want in the world.

I am still having a terribly hard time without being able to reach out to him.  It has been one week since I promised I would stop all contact.  That may not seem a long time to him, but it has been terrible for me.  Every day without him is sorrow and pain.  My sister asked how my health is doing when she was trying to change the subject from him, but the two are intrinsically linked.  There is no body without my soul and there is no soul without my heart.

I know I'm good for him.  I know there are not many men who would put up with all of his issues.  I did more than put up with him.  I supported him.  I forgave him.  I had my own issues too and I thought he would always support mine.  It never occurred to me that he could pull away for something like this.  This is when family bands together, not when it rips apart.  This is when a lover pulls you closer and says, "we will get through this, together."

I'm not perfect.  I know that.  I was jealous and insecure a lot of times.  I discussed those things with him.  I tried to be mature about it, but he would just get angry and stubborn.  I had to share him with the world, but I got to have those precious moments alone at night.  I miss those.  I need those.  Being touched by him brought such peace and joy.  I need peace and joy.  I understood.  I understand.

I love him, which is why I'm not contacting him.  I want him to be happy, in the end.  I wish it could be with me.  I wish he could see more than HIV when he looks at me or thinks of me.  I wish he could see the man who broke his back on more than one occasion, figuratively speaking.  I wish he could see the man who broke his toe and would gladly have sacrificed any other body part in the service of his worthy cause, literally speaking.  I wish he could see the man whose heart is broken, completely and utterly.

I don't know how he can make this seem so easy.  He's telling all his friends he's fine and happy.  He's going about his business.  He's being really cute and sexy in photo shoots.  He's so sexy.  He's being so unkind to me, with a complete lack of compassion, but he's still so sexy.  I don't think he may ever come back to me.  That is the saddest thought I've ever had.

De Kooning

I dreamed that I was at MoMA chasing him around the newly opened De Kooning exhibit.  That is one of his favorite painters and I knew I could find him there, in my dream.  For some reason, I kept getting caught in long lines where guards wanted to inspect everyone's bad.  This didn't make sense to me since they have a mandatory bag check anyway.  I declined to have my bag searched and ended up having to wait in a longer line.  I woke before I ever caught a glimpse of my most precious man. 

He's not mine anymore, of course.  I am holding on to someone who isn't interested.  He doesn't want a lover in me.  He doesn't want a martyr in me.  All I want is him.  I just want him to send me a text or come into my cafe.  I have this fantasy that he visits me while I have my arms full of food and I drop everything and run over to throw my arms around his knees while I weep for joy at his feet.  It's been six days since we spoke on the phone.  I guess if the maxim is true, about loving something and letting it go, then he was never mine to begin with.  I miss him so much.

Last night was the night we usually got together to watch his cooking shows.  He loves the food network and cartoons, with some Judge Judy thrown in occasionally.  He also loves nature programs, but mostly watches those on DVD.  Sunday we'd watch Chopped.  I'd rub his feet and cook him dinner.  He'd do his online work and then we'd cuddle.  I miss burying my face in his hairy chest.

Today he posted photos of himself looking very sexy with the words "kill me now" written in blood-like paint on that chest.  This is upsetting to me.  I don't know if I should reach out.  I know I should not reach out, but I want to.  I love him and want him to be happy.  This is why I'm respecting his wishes.  Instead I chose to email a mutual friend.  I guess he's not so much my friend anymore.  I lost him in the divorce.  He said my man is doing fine.

He's not my man.  I know that.  I wish I didn't.  I want him back so badly it feels like my insides are being ripped apart.  It's a physical pain, this longing.  I miss him.  I just want him back.  Everyone says that's never going to happen. 

Please Come Back To Me

Again this morning I woke up before the sun had risen, repeating to myself, "please come back to me."  It is a prayer I make every morning and every night.  It is a wish for stars and wells and full moons.  It is a mantra to keep me moving forward, keeping myself a worthy person.  It is involuntary, these are the first words that pop into my head.

I want to buy him a new bed frame.  It is not my fault he had to throw out his old one, but I do want to give him the present.  I helped him carry it down five flights of stares when he decided that that's probably where the bed bugs were coming from, the bed bugs he blamed me for.  My roommates had them, the upstairs neighbors had them, Scooter had them.  Miraculously, I never did.  I wish that miracle had been saved for now when I need it more.

I'm broke, anyway, so it's a moot point.  He used to make fun of me and correct me by saying, "mute point."  I loved his teasing at times.  I told a friend last night that he was often like a kid brother to me.  I never thought of him as older.  I never thought of him as a father figure, though I did respect him in many ways.  In a lot of ways, I felt like I was the more mature one, especially where love was concerned.

This conversation happened after we saw Rise of the Planet of the Apes.  It had the usual Hollywood flaws but the pathetic story arc of Caesar made it very touching and very poignant.  I feel like Caesar these days, ripped from my home and placed into a world that doesn't understand me and vice versa.  I am in a prison after having basked in the freedom that love bestows, and it is because of one major mistake.  I missed my love all through the movie.  I missed the movies we would see together where I would rub his feet while I fed him little delights I'd picked up to surprise him with.

Once he jerked me off in a theater.  It was in the back row of an empty theater.  It was one of the hottest experiences of my life, sitting there with his hand on my shaft pulling softly; those wonderful hands of his.  Feeling him touch me was the greatest pleasure.  Just a soft caress now would erase all of the weeks of pain.  Just a soft kiss would deliver me from this hell. 

It was really hard for me not to call or text him after that, but I promised I wouldn't.  Instead I tried to call other people.  I tried to text other people.  Nobody was around.  I felt like I needed a sponsor like they have in AA.  I need someone who will say, "just put the phone down."  I just want to hear him breathe.  That's not true.  I want so much more than that.  I want everything.  I want the complete package.  He is the complete package.

Honesty Doesn't Have to Be Brutal

Last night was one of the most difficult days.  I got a call from G, who told me that he'd been designated as a go-between so my love could warn me indirectly that if my sister didn't stop harassing him on Facebook he would tell her about my HIV status.  I had already told her, and wasn't concerned about that, but I am very concerned that she would disregard my feelings in this way.  I haven't reached out to her for a long long time and now I don't feel I can trust her.  I specifically told her to be kind to him, and that I wanted only the best for him, not to be calling him an asshole, etc.

Sure, he is kind of being an asshole right now, but he has his own reasons, too, and I still love him.  I forgive him.  G railed while he had me on the phone.  He has anger issues and he started just screaming at me about how delusional I am for believing in goodness.  He said I'm a control freak for having hope that my man will do the right thing.  He kept repeating it back to me with incredulity, "do the right thing."  He doesn't think standing by me qualifies.

It got ugly.  Not on my end.  I kept apologizing to him for how this was upsetting him and tried to remind him that I just had to feel what I felt.  G yelled that I had brought him into this by sending him posts and songs and that it was his business and he had to tell me the truth.  At various points he told me I needed a lobotomy, to be committed, even to be murdered rather than continue this way.  He's probably right.

He told me the story of an Indian tribe.  If you have a problem you can go to the center of the circle when all the people have gathered and tell your story.  You can talk for as long as you want and say everything you need to.  Everyone will listen.  You can do this three times.  The fourth time you enter the circle everyone will turn their backs on you.  I think I am beyond G's limit.  I know I am.  I had already resolved to stop bringing my problems to him.  The last thing I shared was a song, but because I was proud of it, not because I wanted sympathy. 

I had been feeling bad all day, anyway.  I cried on the train all the way to meet my therapist, certain that they would make me get over the holder of my heart.  I just wept from missing him and wishing I could just hold on.  I wish I had just held on.  The therapist seemed nice, but didn't really have a chance to be anything else.  I bawled as soon as I sat down, pretty much.  I just completely let go.  It was nice not to have to be strong or consider the impact on my friendship or other relationships.  It's too bad that was only meant to be an information gathering session. 

After that session I had lunch with a friend who shared with me his experiences with a man who sounds a lot like mine.  He told me of how toxic their relationship became to him after 10 years where one side refused to compromise.  He told me how that affected him and shared his insights, basically telling me I just dodged a bullet, reminding me of the fact that I shouldn't have to be the one to make all the sacrifices, all the apologies, all the effort.  Later, when G was on the phone, he would mention my love's side of certain things and this conversation would come leaping back to me. 

Unfortunately, the love of my life has some very serious issues that he refuses to deal with.  When we had a problem it was always my fault, and my need to apologize, my need to see a shrink.  It was never our fault, our need to apologize.  A lot of times, it was never us.  In a lot of ways it was always just him, and, if there was room or time for me, then us.  Even if we were to get back together, which G screams with rage that we are not, it would take work.  I am willing to put that work in, but I can't do it alone.  Unfortunately, I am alone.