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.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, September 26, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, September 23, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, September 19, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Sanity
To me it seems like I'm the sane one and the rest of the world has the problems. Is it denial rearing its ugly head again? How can people who are sane think that giving up on something you want more than anything would be a good idea? How can people who are sane think that lowering your head and moving along is the best way to deal with pain. These grin-and-bear-it types may have had more heartbreak than I have, or they may have lost the one true love already and never had the courage to fight for it.
Another night in which I've had less than five hours sleep. I'm not sure how I'm still going. I can't even nap anymore. I just go to sleep and think about him until I pass out, then wake up thinking about him. It's not voluntary. It's just a prayer my whole body makes. My cousin told me to pray to the spiritual force inside me. I didn't tell her that's what I do all day every day. I pray to have him back.
Most people I talk to seem to think cheating is the biggest sin one can commit in a relationship. The lines get hazy for me. For instance, we didn't really have an agreement of monogamy. He always said, "just do what you need to do," when we would talk about it, and i would always say, "I only want you." I always just needed to be loved by him. I once told him how horny I was after a few days apart and he said, "go to the booths." I never would have. I never would have done anything if he hadn't made me feel like there was no chance of recovery. If I had not lost the hope that we would get back together, after that one major fight, I never would have sought solace with someone who had his eyes but not his soul. He was a nice person with good timing, but he was a lousy substitute.
The days have gotten even longer. I didn't think that was possible in the autumn. Sleep deprivation and loneliness are a great way to prolong the torture of existence. He thinks my loneliness is unhealthy. He thinks my longing for him is unhealthy. He thinks my needing him is unhealthy. Maybe he truly doesn't understand what love is. I am lonely for him. I do long for him. I do need him.
I'm taking care of myself. I'm getting my work done. I'm taking my medicine and pursuing my health. I'm working on art, though it is all about him. It has been a lot about him these past two years, anyway. Now it is about him and my broken heart.
Someone yesterday made me paranoid that he lied to me about being negative. I hope he wouldn't ever feel he needed to do that. If I converted him I would feel so terrible. If he converted me I would forgive him. He doesn't need to lie to me. He never needed to lie to me. Now, the only problem is that the truth he's telling me is the most painful one to hear. He's not even telling me that anymore. It is radio silence.
How long can he stay mad at me? I can't stay mad at him. The only emotion I have that lasts is the love I feel. It is unconditional. He could tie me to horses and drag me to California and I would love him with every piece of myself that scraped off along the way. He needs this kind of love, I told a friend last night. He needs this kind of forgiveness. So do I.
Another night in which I've had less than five hours sleep. I'm not sure how I'm still going. I can't even nap anymore. I just go to sleep and think about him until I pass out, then wake up thinking about him. It's not voluntary. It's just a prayer my whole body makes. My cousin told me to pray to the spiritual force inside me. I didn't tell her that's what I do all day every day. I pray to have him back.
Most people I talk to seem to think cheating is the biggest sin one can commit in a relationship. The lines get hazy for me. For instance, we didn't really have an agreement of monogamy. He always said, "just do what you need to do," when we would talk about it, and i would always say, "I only want you." I always just needed to be loved by him. I once told him how horny I was after a few days apart and he said, "go to the booths." I never would have. I never would have done anything if he hadn't made me feel like there was no chance of recovery. If I had not lost the hope that we would get back together, after that one major fight, I never would have sought solace with someone who had his eyes but not his soul. He was a nice person with good timing, but he was a lousy substitute.
The days have gotten even longer. I didn't think that was possible in the autumn. Sleep deprivation and loneliness are a great way to prolong the torture of existence. He thinks my loneliness is unhealthy. He thinks my longing for him is unhealthy. He thinks my needing him is unhealthy. Maybe he truly doesn't understand what love is. I am lonely for him. I do long for him. I do need him.
I'm taking care of myself. I'm getting my work done. I'm taking my medicine and pursuing my health. I'm working on art, though it is all about him. It has been a lot about him these past two years, anyway. Now it is about him and my broken heart.
Someone yesterday made me paranoid that he lied to me about being negative. I hope he wouldn't ever feel he needed to do that. If I converted him I would feel so terrible. If he converted me I would forgive him. He doesn't need to lie to me. He never needed to lie to me. Now, the only problem is that the truth he's telling me is the most painful one to hear. He's not even telling me that anymore. It is radio silence.
How long can he stay mad at me? I can't stay mad at him. The only emotion I have that lasts is the love I feel. It is unconditional. He could tie me to horses and drag me to California and I would love him with every piece of myself that scraped off along the way. He needs this kind of love, I told a friend last night. He needs this kind of forgiveness. So do I.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Withdrawal
He said I wasn't respecting his feelings by hounding him to get back together. He's not respecting mine by refusing. I guess I've always been the one who had to compromise. I never really minded. This is the hardest compromise I've ever had to make. This is by far the longest amount of time we've spent apart, and by far the longest amount of time we've spent without talking. I don't know how he can do it. He has tons of friends and sexy men to distract him. I hope they are helping. It wouldn't help me. Nothing but his body excites me.
I made a video tonight where I jerked off onto a picture of his and licked it up. It is not high art. It is something I want to send him. In other circumstances, he would be turned on and flattered. I know this would just annoy him. I also wrote one of the most simple, heart-felt, and beautiful songs I've written in years, just for him. He may never hear it. Even if he listens, he still may not. I wish I could share these things with him.
I have been so prolific in blasting my pain out into the internet that people are coming out of the woodwork to send kind thoughts. I am not doing it for their attention, though I am grateful. I am doing it because I cannot bear the thought that he may never fully understand how much I'm willing to work, struggle, sacrifice, and dedicate myself to him and for him. The only thing I can't do is let him go without a fight. As a consolation, this way I am proving that I can show respect for his feelings. That is a start. It is so hard, but it is a start.
He was my best friend as well as my lover. I would light up like a Christmas tree every time he texted me. Often it was just "hi" but that was enough. It would send me soaring through heaven. It would send my heart racing through the universe at the speed of light. It would raise my spirits like nothing else could. Now, nothing else could.
I never wanted anybody else. I never wanted to have sex with anyone else. I never wanted to look at anyone else. Even porn on the internet. He accidentally used my Tumblr account one day and I found he'd started following tons of porn posters. I kept them on, but every time I looked I only felt guilty and was reminded that I had the best man there could be. I never wanted that half hour of impersonal sex. I was acting out. I was doing something I knew was wrong.
The one thing I did want was love. Now I have it from everyone else, people I have been estranged from for years. It doesn't help, though I wish it would. My sister, who I barely spoke with is one. Suddenly I am having phone conversations where I'm telling real things about my life rather than vague storytelling to make it sound like I'm not wasting my time watching my dreams die in New York. Now when they ask and I'm watching his online postings, I can say, "I'm watching my dreams die in New York."
I made a video tonight where I jerked off onto a picture of his and licked it up. It is not high art. It is something I want to send him. In other circumstances, he would be turned on and flattered. I know this would just annoy him. I also wrote one of the most simple, heart-felt, and beautiful songs I've written in years, just for him. He may never hear it. Even if he listens, he still may not. I wish I could share these things with him.
I have been so prolific in blasting my pain out into the internet that people are coming out of the woodwork to send kind thoughts. I am not doing it for their attention, though I am grateful. I am doing it because I cannot bear the thought that he may never fully understand how much I'm willing to work, struggle, sacrifice, and dedicate myself to him and for him. The only thing I can't do is let him go without a fight. As a consolation, this way I am proving that I can show respect for his feelings. That is a start. It is so hard, but it is a start.
He was my best friend as well as my lover. I would light up like a Christmas tree every time he texted me. Often it was just "hi" but that was enough. It would send me soaring through heaven. It would send my heart racing through the universe at the speed of light. It would raise my spirits like nothing else could. Now, nothing else could.
I never wanted anybody else. I never wanted to have sex with anyone else. I never wanted to look at anyone else. Even porn on the internet. He accidentally used my Tumblr account one day and I found he'd started following tons of porn posters. I kept them on, but every time I looked I only felt guilty and was reminded that I had the best man there could be. I never wanted that half hour of impersonal sex. I was acting out. I was doing something I knew was wrong.
The one thing I did want was love. Now I have it from everyone else, people I have been estranged from for years. It doesn't help, though I wish it would. My sister, who I barely spoke with is one. Suddenly I am having phone conversations where I'm telling real things about my life rather than vague storytelling to make it sound like I'm not wasting my time watching my dreams die in New York. Now when they ask and I'm watching his online postings, I can say, "I'm watching my dreams die in New York."
REM
My bed is soaked. I sweated so much last night that I had to get up twice to put towels down. This is the recurrence of the issues that caused this whole mess to begin with. Well, not the issues, but symptoms that uncovered the issues. I am worried, which is ridiculous since I would never have worried prior to having this knowledge. It's not like I thought I was invincible, but I did think I was capable of healing. I'm a prairie boy, after all.
In my fevered dream, he and I were on a trip to try to salvage what we have. We stayed in a beautiful hotel room upstate. I'm sure it's inspired by our few wonderful visits to Hudson. When he took some time away from work, which was so rare, I felt relieved. I'm so worried he's going to overwork himself into an early grave. He's got huge ambition. He's got a fire for fame.
In my dream, we couldn't seem to meet up. I kept trying. I kept texting and calling, asking, "where are you now?" It was one of those dreams where you're chasing something you want so badly and the closer you get to it the further away it moves. Sadness and frustration caused me to sit down and cry in a library. Then I had to go to work so I got in a van and drove to the airport with a hippy. We drove through rooms in the hotel, little sea-side villages with stormy seas, down hills. It's around this point that I woke up.
I haven't really woken up though. The interpretation of that dream is so simple and on the surface. The more I pursue him, the more I push him away. That's the hardest part about all of this. I'm trying to hold onto my dream come true, and he's trying to hold on to the stone heart he's adopted. It's a tragedy. If he gave me just one more chance he would never again need to use that defense mechanism. Never in his whole life. I would make sure of it.
Last night a friend mentioned the full moon might be a good time to have wishes come true. I know what I would wish for. I would wish for him to genuinely want to reach out to me and hold me. That's not so much to ask. Just to hold me. To be in his arms again would be the most wonderful wish granted.
I do miss the sex. He had this way of touching me that was so intimate and so sweet. It wasn't the most exciting sex I've ever had, but I would have been completely satisfied for the rest of my life. He has a beautiful love-making style. His hard muscles and soft skin played beautifully against my back when we fucked. We stopped using condoms a few months ago. I wish we hadn't. I wish we still could.
What I wonder right now is whether things would have ended up this way had I tested negative. I guess it's no sense dwelling on things like that, but since he broke up with me because I put him at risk I feel like I'm being punished for what might have been. What might have been had I been negative? I wonder if my moment of weakness would still have pushed him away. I'm such a complete idiot for ever doing it.
I miss him so much. More every day. The gaping wound where my heart used to be is festering with the ooze of knowledge; the knowledge that we were the best fit. He won't find another man like me. I wonder when he'll realize that. He won't find a man who will devote himself the way I have. There is nothing I wouldn't do for him. Nothing except let him go, which is the only thing he wants anymore.
In my fevered dream, he and I were on a trip to try to salvage what we have. We stayed in a beautiful hotel room upstate. I'm sure it's inspired by our few wonderful visits to Hudson. When he took some time away from work, which was so rare, I felt relieved. I'm so worried he's going to overwork himself into an early grave. He's got huge ambition. He's got a fire for fame.
In my dream, we couldn't seem to meet up. I kept trying. I kept texting and calling, asking, "where are you now?" It was one of those dreams where you're chasing something you want so badly and the closer you get to it the further away it moves. Sadness and frustration caused me to sit down and cry in a library. Then I had to go to work so I got in a van and drove to the airport with a hippy. We drove through rooms in the hotel, little sea-side villages with stormy seas, down hills. It's around this point that I woke up.
I haven't really woken up though. The interpretation of that dream is so simple and on the surface. The more I pursue him, the more I push him away. That's the hardest part about all of this. I'm trying to hold onto my dream come true, and he's trying to hold on to the stone heart he's adopted. It's a tragedy. If he gave me just one more chance he would never again need to use that defense mechanism. Never in his whole life. I would make sure of it.
Last night a friend mentioned the full moon might be a good time to have wishes come true. I know what I would wish for. I would wish for him to genuinely want to reach out to me and hold me. That's not so much to ask. Just to hold me. To be in his arms again would be the most wonderful wish granted.
I do miss the sex. He had this way of touching me that was so intimate and so sweet. It wasn't the most exciting sex I've ever had, but I would have been completely satisfied for the rest of my life. He has a beautiful love-making style. His hard muscles and soft skin played beautifully against my back when we fucked. We stopped using condoms a few months ago. I wish we hadn't. I wish we still could.
What I wonder right now is whether things would have ended up this way had I tested negative. I guess it's no sense dwelling on things like that, but since he broke up with me because I put him at risk I feel like I'm being punished for what might have been. What might have been had I been negative? I wonder if my moment of weakness would still have pushed him away. I'm such a complete idiot for ever doing it.
I miss him so much. More every day. The gaping wound where my heart used to be is festering with the ooze of knowledge; the knowledge that we were the best fit. He won't find another man like me. I wonder when he'll realize that. He won't find a man who will devote himself the way I have. There is nothing I wouldn't do for him. Nothing except let him go, which is the only thing he wants anymore.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Animals
I crossed the line again today, but this time not with him. I woke up to find he'd posted a beautiful drawing of another man in his bed. This is the worst form of cruelty. He must have known I would see it. He is deliberately being callous. I will take it. It means there's something there, even if it's channeled into hurting me. I didn't think I could hurt anymore than I did. That image terrorized me all day. It is burned into my retinas.
I want to reach out to him. I want to tell him I will take the pain. I will take the cruelty. Not because I deserve it, but because he is my Buttercup and my only desire is to say, "as you wish." Instead, I reached out to the person who was the subject of the portrait. This man was very kind about it but I know I shouldn't have done it. I simply asked him to give my love a hug for me anonymously, to take care of him, and to treat him right. I also unloaded about how I felt. It was a violation, I know.
I don't believe any of my friends believe in the kind of love I am talking about, and I don't believe any of them want to hear any more about it. I have to stop talking in order to stop talking about it. I have to stop thinking in order to stop thinking about it. I have to stop breathing to avoid the smell of his clean, pure scent. I'm wishing for the one I love.
My insurance came through today, so I made an appointment to see a therapist. That will be on Friday. I will feel relieved to know that they are being paid to listen to my sobs and utter heartbreak. I'm scared, but not of AIDS. I'm scared he will not realize, until it's too late, what a blessing I've been to him and what a blessing I still could be.
He said to me, "I feel like I'm the only person in Manhattan who doesn't have it." If I hated him I would wish he gets it, just so he can finally see what I'm going through and how wrong this betrayal is. I don't hate him. I love him. I forgive him. I know I will always love him. It has been two days since I spoke to him, heard the aural ambrosia that is his sweet voice. He was cruel then, too. He can be very cruel and he knows exactly what to say to me. I cried all morning. Again.
A black man with no shirt came by the sidewalk tables at the cafe where I work. Apropos of nothing he started SCREAMING at two female customers about how white people treat him like an animal because he's black, how he hates this country, how he's not an animal. He was an animal. We're all animals. I'm not sure when he decided to take his dick out, but it was before I told him he was treating these strangers like animals, that he was an animal, but not because he's black. He should really just go home. After I intervened he started screaming about how I'm just a homo and a faggot, blissfully unaware of his hypocrisy.
I have a rash and a fever. I have meetings in the morning. I can't get to sleep. As I was closing, a fire door slammed shut, separating the two rooms of the cafe. I tried every key, at least a hundred, and none worked. I couldn't reach my boss. The kitchen worker was furious. It really complicated our closing routine and I ended up staying an hour late. I couldn't apologize or explain it was an accident. Doors keep slamming shut on me.
I want to reach out to him. I want to tell him I will take the pain. I will take the cruelty. Not because I deserve it, but because he is my Buttercup and my only desire is to say, "as you wish." Instead, I reached out to the person who was the subject of the portrait. This man was very kind about it but I know I shouldn't have done it. I simply asked him to give my love a hug for me anonymously, to take care of him, and to treat him right. I also unloaded about how I felt. It was a violation, I know.
I don't believe any of my friends believe in the kind of love I am talking about, and I don't believe any of them want to hear any more about it. I have to stop talking in order to stop talking about it. I have to stop thinking in order to stop thinking about it. I have to stop breathing to avoid the smell of his clean, pure scent. I'm wishing for the one I love.
My insurance came through today, so I made an appointment to see a therapist. That will be on Friday. I will feel relieved to know that they are being paid to listen to my sobs and utter heartbreak. I'm scared, but not of AIDS. I'm scared he will not realize, until it's too late, what a blessing I've been to him and what a blessing I still could be.
He said to me, "I feel like I'm the only person in Manhattan who doesn't have it." If I hated him I would wish he gets it, just so he can finally see what I'm going through and how wrong this betrayal is. I don't hate him. I love him. I forgive him. I know I will always love him. It has been two days since I spoke to him, heard the aural ambrosia that is his sweet voice. He was cruel then, too. He can be very cruel and he knows exactly what to say to me. I cried all morning. Again.
A black man with no shirt came by the sidewalk tables at the cafe where I work. Apropos of nothing he started SCREAMING at two female customers about how white people treat him like an animal because he's black, how he hates this country, how he's not an animal. He was an animal. We're all animals. I'm not sure when he decided to take his dick out, but it was before I told him he was treating these strangers like animals, that he was an animal, but not because he's black. He should really just go home. After I intervened he started screaming about how I'm just a homo and a faggot, blissfully unaware of his hypocrisy.
I have a rash and a fever. I have meetings in the morning. I can't get to sleep. As I was closing, a fire door slammed shut, separating the two rooms of the cafe. I tried every key, at least a hundred, and none worked. I couldn't reach my boss. The kitchen worker was furious. It really complicated our closing routine and I ended up staying an hour late. I couldn't apologize or explain it was an accident. Doors keep slamming shut on me.
Adventure
Yesterday I cried while he spoke to me on the phone, telling me he's moved on, he's seeing other people, he's having sex with them. That hurt. Alot. I want him back. Still. I would forgive anything. I told him that if our roles had been reversed I would have forgiven him in an instant. He's punishing me for a hypothetical outcome that didn't come to pass for him. That, in conjunction with the real outcome that did come to pass for me, is just terrible. I cried in the shower after we hung up.
He has the most wonderful voice. It is like music to my ears. Even if he's saying the cruelest things to me, things I don't want to hear, I'd still rather hear him say them than not hear his voice. I told him how nice it was to speak to him. He was acting very patient, but I could tell he had no more patience. He told me how annoying I am. He told me I'm pushing him further away. He said the very salient points I'm making in my texts and emails go in one ear and out the other.
It was a hard day all around. I'm not feeling well at all, and I still have no insurance. I'm not sure how long it may take, or if it will even come through. I finally had to tell my mom. I called her and made sure she was sitting down. She kept trying to get me to go back to Alberta. I will never go back to Alberta. I have no interest in being in a conservative enclave filled with homophobes and people who can't appreciate my art.
New York is my home. His arms are my home. He's running away. I told him that when I sent him money for my phone bill, which he's allowing me to keep on the family plan only so long as I never text or call or email or make any attempt to get back together. That is like asking my heart not to beat.
I just saw a drawing he did of someone else in his bed. That's my bed. That's my place. That's my man. How can I deal with this? How am I supposed to deal with this?
He has the most wonderful voice. It is like music to my ears. Even if he's saying the cruelest things to me, things I don't want to hear, I'd still rather hear him say them than not hear his voice. I told him how nice it was to speak to him. He was acting very patient, but I could tell he had no more patience. He told me how annoying I am. He told me I'm pushing him further away. He said the very salient points I'm making in my texts and emails go in one ear and out the other.
It was a hard day all around. I'm not feeling well at all, and I still have no insurance. I'm not sure how long it may take, or if it will even come through. I finally had to tell my mom. I called her and made sure she was sitting down. She kept trying to get me to go back to Alberta. I will never go back to Alberta. I have no interest in being in a conservative enclave filled with homophobes and people who can't appreciate my art.
New York is my home. His arms are my home. He's running away. I told him that when I sent him money for my phone bill, which he's allowing me to keep on the family plan only so long as I never text or call or email or make any attempt to get back together. That is like asking my heart not to beat.
I just saw a drawing he did of someone else in his bed. That's my bed. That's my place. That's my man. How can I deal with this? How am I supposed to deal with this?
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Pity
Hello my one and only love,
Please take pity on me.
I am going to deal with the phone today. I probably won't be able to transfer it though. I wish I could convince you to keep me on the family plan, but then, I wish I could convince you to keep me in the family. If you would consider the first I would pay your bill and mine every month. If you would consider the second I would spend a lifetime showing you the kind of love we both deserve. I really only wanted the iphone so that I could be a better business person and get my career together so we could afford a place together. It was helping, I think.
Please take pity on me.
The truth is that I am not in denial, and I hope you can believe that. I understand and accept what you're doing. I just refuse to give up on you. I promised you that I would never give up on you. I meant it. I promised you that I would always love you. I meant it. When I wore your ring I promised you that I would love and cherish you, honor and obey you, in sickness and in health. I meant it, even after the fight you said you forgave me for. You promised me the same things, and I know you meant it. If only you would let go of the fear, the pain, the doubt, the insecurity, the anger. Let go of the negative things and there is plenty of positive.
Please take pity on me.
I know you've told me time and again that we will not be lovers. I don't expect you to want to marry me again right away. I just want the chance to show you that I have learned from my mistakes. I know they were huge mistakes. I honestly couldn't have known I was HIV positive. You're punishing me for something I couldn't have known, and for the hypothetical risk that I could have given it to you. That's not living in the present, it's judging me for the past and for an alternate reality that never came to pass. I want to impress you. I want you to be proud of me. I want you to know that you are the most special person in my life and never doubt that.
Please take pity on me.
I am afraid. I am lonely. I am depressed. I am trying to hold on to the one good thing. You were more than a good thing in my life. You were a great thing, a dream come true. What I never properly understood about your career, I get it now. I know what it's like to be fueled by the fiery passion to go after the most valuable goal.
Please take pity on me.
Between the year and a half to two year mark, most couples go through a really hard time. Plenty of people have told me this. Ours has been harder than most, I agree. Still, I continued to work hard and be a good lover. I only gave up for one hour, and it is the thing I will most regret for the rest of my life. The thing these people tell me is this: if you can get through it you are set for life.
Please take pity on me.
Don't you want to be set for life? Don't you want to never have to cruise Adam4adam or grindr? Don't you want to have someone love you for no reason other than the person that you are? Don't you want a lover who is an angel 90% of the time? I'm sure I was. I know you were. Don't you want to know that no matter what you do, where you go, and how much success and fame alienates you from average people, there will be someone in your corner, on your side, and in your heart? I want those things for you.
Please take pity on me.
I need a hug. I need hope. I need compassion. I need pity. Please take pity on my poor heart. If nothing else. Please take pity.
Please take pity on me.
I am going to deal with the phone today. I probably won't be able to transfer it though. I wish I could convince you to keep me on the family plan, but then, I wish I could convince you to keep me in the family. If you would consider the first I would pay your bill and mine every month. If you would consider the second I would spend a lifetime showing you the kind of love we both deserve. I really only wanted the iphone so that I could be a better business person and get my career together so we could afford a place together. It was helping, I think.
Please take pity on me.
The truth is that I am not in denial, and I hope you can believe that. I understand and accept what you're doing. I just refuse to give up on you. I promised you that I would never give up on you. I meant it. I promised you that I would always love you. I meant it. When I wore your ring I promised you that I would love and cherish you, honor and obey you, in sickness and in health. I meant it, even after the fight you said you forgave me for. You promised me the same things, and I know you meant it. If only you would let go of the fear, the pain, the doubt, the insecurity, the anger. Let go of the negative things and there is plenty of positive.
Please take pity on me.
I know you've told me time and again that we will not be lovers. I don't expect you to want to marry me again right away. I just want the chance to show you that I have learned from my mistakes. I know they were huge mistakes. I honestly couldn't have known I was HIV positive. You're punishing me for something I couldn't have known, and for the hypothetical risk that I could have given it to you. That's not living in the present, it's judging me for the past and for an alternate reality that never came to pass. I want to impress you. I want you to be proud of me. I want you to know that you are the most special person in my life and never doubt that.
Please take pity on me.
I am afraid. I am lonely. I am depressed. I am trying to hold on to the one good thing. You were more than a good thing in my life. You were a great thing, a dream come true. What I never properly understood about your career, I get it now. I know what it's like to be fueled by the fiery passion to go after the most valuable goal.
Please take pity on me.
Between the year and a half to two year mark, most couples go through a really hard time. Plenty of people have told me this. Ours has been harder than most, I agree. Still, I continued to work hard and be a good lover. I only gave up for one hour, and it is the thing I will most regret for the rest of my life. The thing these people tell me is this: if you can get through it you are set for life.
Please take pity on me.
Don't you want to be set for life? Don't you want to never have to cruise Adam4adam or grindr? Don't you want to have someone love you for no reason other than the person that you are? Don't you want a lover who is an angel 90% of the time? I'm sure I was. I know you were. Don't you want to know that no matter what you do, where you go, and how much success and fame alienates you from average people, there will be someone in your corner, on your side, and in your heart? I want those things for you.
Please take pity on me.
I need a hug. I need hope. I need compassion. I need pity. Please take pity on my poor heart. If nothing else. Please take pity.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Inspired
I told him tonight that he was a dream come true for me, and that I know I have nobody to blame, but myself, for the nightmare its become. He didn't respond. He did respond to a couple of my texts though, so I know he is reading them at least. That's more than I can say for my emails or the hand-written letter I delivered to his door.
I just wish I knew what I could do to get through to him. He wants to cut off my phone. The family plan no longer works for him. I don't know how he can be so adamant in his refusal. I would settle for one date. Take things slow. Build from nothing, which is what we have now. I'm hot. I feel like all the stress is making me sick.
I got a bill for $1600 today. It is for my tests and blood-work. I am too poor to have AIDS and I still have no insurance. It was supposed to take 10 days and it's been over a month. I'm afraid, alone, unwanted by the one person who could alleviate all of this. If I end up in the hospital I wonder if he'd visit me.
How do you just turn your heart off like this? I wish I knew. I would do it, too. Or maybe I wouldn't. The difference between us is that I believe he'll forgive me, eventually. He says I'm in denial. It's at the point where i have to follow the maxim: if you love something let it go. It's so hard for me. It's so hard.
I just want to listen to him breathe. That would give me such peace and joy, which is what the doctors say I need. Just to hear his soft breath, or the light snoring he doesn't admit to. He's so cute. He has the cutest ears.
I am alienating everyone I know through my misery and single-focus, making me even more isolated and lonely. I can't help it, just as I can't help loving him and longing for him. I want to talk about him, I want someone to give me hope, I want to know if anyone in the entire world has any idea what one thing I can do to break through the ice he's allowing to build up on his heart.
I want him to be happy. I want to be happy also. He deserves good things. I am a dream eater who destroyed the most perfect thing I ever had. It wasn't perfect, of course, but it was perfect for me.
I just wish I knew what I could do to get through to him. He wants to cut off my phone. The family plan no longer works for him. I don't know how he can be so adamant in his refusal. I would settle for one date. Take things slow. Build from nothing, which is what we have now. I'm hot. I feel like all the stress is making me sick.
I got a bill for $1600 today. It is for my tests and blood-work. I am too poor to have AIDS and I still have no insurance. It was supposed to take 10 days and it's been over a month. I'm afraid, alone, unwanted by the one person who could alleviate all of this. If I end up in the hospital I wonder if he'd visit me.
How do you just turn your heart off like this? I wish I knew. I would do it, too. Or maybe I wouldn't. The difference between us is that I believe he'll forgive me, eventually. He says I'm in denial. It's at the point where i have to follow the maxim: if you love something let it go. It's so hard for me. It's so hard.
I just want to listen to him breathe. That would give me such peace and joy, which is what the doctors say I need. Just to hear his soft breath, or the light snoring he doesn't admit to. He's so cute. He has the cutest ears.
I am alienating everyone I know through my misery and single-focus, making me even more isolated and lonely. I can't help it, just as I can't help loving him and longing for him. I want to talk about him, I want someone to give me hope, I want to know if anyone in the entire world has any idea what one thing I can do to break through the ice he's allowing to build up on his heart.
I want him to be happy. I want to be happy also. He deserves good things. I am a dream eater who destroyed the most perfect thing I ever had. It wasn't perfect, of course, but it was perfect for me.
Admission
I don't know what I'm writing this for. Well, I do know, but it isn't likely. Eventually I want him to read it, all of it, and know what this is doing to me. I can't really gauge what it's doing to him. I only know I want him back so badly that it's all I can think about. I wake up repeating his name over and over again, sure that the astral projection of my misery will reach him in his bed. We have a special bond.
Yesterday I found some distraction getting ready for tomorrow. I have a big event planned. I wish he would come and put his arms around me. In the past, he always surprised me by showing up when I wasn't expecting him. I always ran towards him, threw my arms around him, and showed him how much that meant to me.
It is not enough that he is the sexiest man in the world. It is not enough that he is the most talented man in the world. It is not enough that he is the kindest man in the world. It would be enough if that kindness allowed him to see past this and into my heart. I miss him so much.
Suddenly, people are hitting on me, flirting with me. It's very annoying. It's very insensitive. I can't see how anyone would think that my pouring my heart out about how badly I want him back makes it a good time for a booty call, or anything else. I don't want them. I want him. I just want him. From morning to night, it's all I want.
I wish with all my heart that he would just give me another chance. I know I've said it before. I'll say it again. I'll say it every day for the rest of my life. I have this fantasy about calling his mother and talking to her, asking her to talk to him. I never would. He would hate me for that. He probably hates me already for working so hard to try to win him back. How do you give up on something you want more than anything? How do you just let it walk away? I know I've asked it before.
I can't figure out how. My life without him is cold. The days are getting colder anyway. I want to cuddle with him. I want to hug him. I have to go to work tonight. My shifts have been cut way back, but I have to work two days a week still. The entire night I stare out the windows waiting for him to pass by. I wish he would stop in.
The last time he stopped in he was wearing these new shorts that looked like they had the Mexican flag or something printed on them. They were so flimsy, and moved with every slight breeze. He turns me on so much. He is the only one I ever wanted. What I never told him is this: the guy I cheated on him with, he has similar eyes to my love. That's what did it for me. I never wanted him. I wanted my love.
It's all I have ever wanted. My whole life, from wishing for love to furious teenage masturbation sessions, he was the one. He is my ideal in every way. He is all I want. There is only one thing I would change about him and it is this: he refuses to take me back.
Yesterday I found some distraction getting ready for tomorrow. I have a big event planned. I wish he would come and put his arms around me. In the past, he always surprised me by showing up when I wasn't expecting him. I always ran towards him, threw my arms around him, and showed him how much that meant to me.
It is not enough that he is the sexiest man in the world. It is not enough that he is the most talented man in the world. It is not enough that he is the kindest man in the world. It would be enough if that kindness allowed him to see past this and into my heart. I miss him so much.
Suddenly, people are hitting on me, flirting with me. It's very annoying. It's very insensitive. I can't see how anyone would think that my pouring my heart out about how badly I want him back makes it a good time for a booty call, or anything else. I don't want them. I want him. I just want him. From morning to night, it's all I want.
I wish with all my heart that he would just give me another chance. I know I've said it before. I'll say it again. I'll say it every day for the rest of my life. I have this fantasy about calling his mother and talking to her, asking her to talk to him. I never would. He would hate me for that. He probably hates me already for working so hard to try to win him back. How do you give up on something you want more than anything? How do you just let it walk away? I know I've asked it before.
I can't figure out how. My life without him is cold. The days are getting colder anyway. I want to cuddle with him. I want to hug him. I have to go to work tonight. My shifts have been cut way back, but I have to work two days a week still. The entire night I stare out the windows waiting for him to pass by. I wish he would stop in.
The last time he stopped in he was wearing these new shorts that looked like they had the Mexican flag or something printed on them. They were so flimsy, and moved with every slight breeze. He turns me on so much. He is the only one I ever wanted. What I never told him is this: the guy I cheated on him with, he has similar eyes to my love. That's what did it for me. I never wanted him. I wanted my love.
It's all I have ever wanted. My whole life, from wishing for love to furious teenage masturbation sessions, he was the one. He is my ideal in every way. He is all I want. There is only one thing I would change about him and it is this: he refuses to take me back.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Memorial
There has been a huge amount of negative psychic energy in the air. Many many bad things have happened to me and other people I know. Cause and effect, action and reaction, the lines are blurred. Last night I had a late night conversation with a mutual friend whose long distance relationship ended. He was basically told the same thing I was, "I can be your friend, not your lover."
How do you say that to someone who has squeezed the blackheads on your back? How do you say it to someone who has broken bones for you, carried loads that caused weeks worth of back pain, or changed their schedule to sell your art while you enjoy walking through a city for a week? How do you forget? How do you just close off?
It is a day to remember. It is the day to remember. 10 years seems like nothing to me, but 2 years seems like forever. Time has become a pretzel. I remember. I remember everything.
I keep reading his horoscope. Every day it says its a great day to reconcile with a special person. Every day I hope that person will be me. He told me he loved me. He told me he wanted to keep our engagement a secret. Part of him always held back.
Unlike myself, he was in NYC for 9/11. He remembers. It is hard to find peace. He's had to see so many traumatic things. He's had to keep moving on. This time he doesn't have to move on. At some point in a person's life they have to decide what to keep and what to let go. I'm worth keeping. I know that. He won't listen.
I wish I could get through to him. I wish I could prove that everything will work out. I wish I didn't have AIDS. I wish I'd never had that moment of weakness. I wish for him. It is the first thing I do in the morning, and the last thing I do at night.
How do you say that to someone who has squeezed the blackheads on your back? How do you say it to someone who has broken bones for you, carried loads that caused weeks worth of back pain, or changed their schedule to sell your art while you enjoy walking through a city for a week? How do you forget? How do you just close off?
It is a day to remember. It is the day to remember. 10 years seems like nothing to me, but 2 years seems like forever. Time has become a pretzel. I remember. I remember everything.
I keep reading his horoscope. Every day it says its a great day to reconcile with a special person. Every day I hope that person will be me. He told me he loved me. He told me he wanted to keep our engagement a secret. Part of him always held back.
Unlike myself, he was in NYC for 9/11. He remembers. It is hard to find peace. He's had to see so many traumatic things. He's had to keep moving on. This time he doesn't have to move on. At some point in a person's life they have to decide what to keep and what to let go. I'm worth keeping. I know that. He won't listen.
I wish I could get through to him. I wish I could prove that everything will work out. I wish I didn't have AIDS. I wish I'd never had that moment of weakness. I wish for him. It is the first thing I do in the morning, and the last thing I do at night.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
The Line
I couldn't leave it alone. I couldn't leave him alone. I wanted to do something nice for his birthday. I wanted to do something nice for myself. I want him back. I just want him back. He cut off my phone line because I wasn't respecting his wish that I leave him alone.
This was after I went to his apartment to drop off birthday balloons and a letter I wrote. I thought maybe if I wrote a letter he would read it. I don't know how he can read the things I write and not soften his heart. I don't think he's reading my emails. He didn't know I'd sent him instructions for how to get out of the family plan.
We were on a family plan. We were family. We should still be. At one point he said to me, "I'm your family, but I'm not your lover." I said, "I have two sisters already, I don't need another one." I need my man. I need to see him and to feel him breathe. Nothing is right in the world.
There was a wedding across the alley tonight. Loud, raucous music and the sound of revelry filled the neighborhood. I turned on my air conditioner to try to drown it out. A bottle of wine and a big meal of poutine helped me pass out. That's about as good as I can hope.
I really thought that if I just showed him how much it mattered to me through persistence and determination he would take me back. I really want him to take me back. His friends were being very kind to me today. I guess my public misery and depravity are getting negative attention. I'm so lonely. I don't want to be alone.
I feel alone even when other people are around. I feel alone without him. I feel so alone.
This was after I went to his apartment to drop off birthday balloons and a letter I wrote. I thought maybe if I wrote a letter he would read it. I don't know how he can read the things I write and not soften his heart. I don't think he's reading my emails. He didn't know I'd sent him instructions for how to get out of the family plan.
We were on a family plan. We were family. We should still be. At one point he said to me, "I'm your family, but I'm not your lover." I said, "I have two sisters already, I don't need another one." I need my man. I need to see him and to feel him breathe. Nothing is right in the world.
There was a wedding across the alley tonight. Loud, raucous music and the sound of revelry filled the neighborhood. I turned on my air conditioner to try to drown it out. A bottle of wine and a big meal of poutine helped me pass out. That's about as good as I can hope.
I really thought that if I just showed him how much it mattered to me through persistence and determination he would take me back. I really want him to take me back. His friends were being very kind to me today. I guess my public misery and depravity are getting negative attention. I'm so lonely. I don't want to be alone.
I feel alone even when other people are around. I feel alone without him. I feel so alone.
Behind the Man
Christo had Jeanne-Claude. Pollock had Krasner. Gertrude had Alice. So many great artists had great partners to build them up and support them. He says he wants to focus on his career. I don't know how that's different. I can help him. It's his birthday. I want to wait outside of his apartment covered in balloons, but I know he wouldn't like that. Instead I made him a birthday card in photoshop. I unblocked him on Facebook so I could post it, but I think he's blocked me now. He keeps blocking me in so many ways.
I asked him today in an email: if someone told you to stop making art, could you? He couldn't. He means as much to me as that. I would do anything to regain his trust and confidence in me. I'm not sure how I could go about that. The past couple of months were really hard, but I've been working harder than I ever have in my life to try to get to a place of security. I want to offer him that security. I want him to know the surety of my love. He needs it.
He's had a rough life. He told me about how close he came to suicide after years of prostitution and drugs. I knew vaguely, but he gave more details. Its ironic that he couldn't feel he could share that until he'd already walked away. I never would have judged him. Just like when he cheated on me. He told me, and I forgave him immediately. I never have been judgmental when it came to him. I've been discerning, and conscious, and it was so worth it.
In getting to know him I've gotten to know more about myself. I've learned what I value and what I want. I've learned that it's okay to say what I want, but it's not okay to expect it. I've learned the value of putting all of your energy into the things that matter to you. He taught me that, and now he won't let me do it for him.
I want to wait outside his door for him every night, with dinner ready and a hot bath drawn. I want to rub his feet while he enjoys his first moments off of them. I want to scratch his back, being careful to avoid that one mole just off his spine. I want to earn his love again.
Last night I thought I was being cute. I texted him that it was a lovely day, the perfect day to give love another chance. He said he was exhausted and tired so I offered to cook dinner and rub his feet. It's what I want so badly. He told me to stop texting him. He used all caps.
I asked him today in an email: if someone told you to stop making art, could you? He couldn't. He means as much to me as that. I would do anything to regain his trust and confidence in me. I'm not sure how I could go about that. The past couple of months were really hard, but I've been working harder than I ever have in my life to try to get to a place of security. I want to offer him that security. I want him to know the surety of my love. He needs it.
He's had a rough life. He told me about how close he came to suicide after years of prostitution and drugs. I knew vaguely, but he gave more details. Its ironic that he couldn't feel he could share that until he'd already walked away. I never would have judged him. Just like when he cheated on me. He told me, and I forgave him immediately. I never have been judgmental when it came to him. I've been discerning, and conscious, and it was so worth it.
In getting to know him I've gotten to know more about myself. I've learned what I value and what I want. I've learned that it's okay to say what I want, but it's not okay to expect it. I've learned the value of putting all of your energy into the things that matter to you. He taught me that, and now he won't let me do it for him.
I want to wait outside his door for him every night, with dinner ready and a hot bath drawn. I want to rub his feet while he enjoys his first moments off of them. I want to scratch his back, being careful to avoid that one mole just off his spine. I want to earn his love again.
Last night I thought I was being cute. I texted him that it was a lovely day, the perfect day to give love another chance. He said he was exhausted and tired so I offered to cook dinner and rub his feet. It's what I want so badly. He told me to stop texting him. He used all caps.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Happy Birthday
I hope you got your present and that you love it! It's so you, and I am concerned about your shoulder and back from your current bag. I know you're closed off to hearing this, but I love you and wish you the best in the upcoming year. There is nothing worth celebrating if it is not this: that the world has produced a talented artist and kind man who excites people and inspires passion. I know you want to dedicate your life to your work and I think it is so worth it. You deserve attention, you deserve fame, you deserve to have all of your dreams come true.
I don't know how to get through to you and let you know that you are the most special person I have ever met. I don't know if you'll even read this email. It's no secret that I want your love back in my world. I would do anything. I know I'm annoying you, but it's only been a month. Gregg tells me I'm in denial. I believe in the love we share and I AM 100 PERCENT CERTAIN I CAN BE THE ONE BEHIND YOU, to support you, to encourage you, to give you hope and belief.
I'm worried about you. I'm worried about the amount of stress you're under. I'm worried that you're having financial difficulties. I'm worried that you're burying yourself in work because you won't deal with everything I put you through. If there's anything I can do, please let me help you.
If you were to give yourself one birthday present I hope it would be this: take a chance that love doesn't die. Take the risk that something that seemed so true still could be. I would promise you that it would be worth it.
If you gave me one more chance I would make you these promises:
1- I would never again take your love or you for granted.
2- I would work every day to ensure that I never put your health, your career, or your heart at risk.
3- I would love you until the day. I will do that anyway, whether you give me another chance or not.
I've found a way to separate our phones, should you desire it, and I know there are things you've given me that you want back. Anything I own you can have, as much as it means to me. As much as it means to me to be able to look at things you've created, it means more to me to see you happy. It does mean a great deal to me, and I would love to hold onto it. You mean more to me.
I've tried so many things to win you back. I have tried romance, tears, sweet gestures. I don't want to give up. Please give yourself another chance with me. You owe it to yourself to finally drop the armor and believe in the love you've always wanted. It is right here waiting for you.
Happy birthday.
I don't know how to get through to you and let you know that you are the most special person I have ever met. I don't know if you'll even read this email. It's no secret that I want your love back in my world. I would do anything. I know I'm annoying you, but it's only been a month. Gregg tells me I'm in denial. I believe in the love we share and I AM 100 PERCENT CERTAIN I CAN BE THE ONE BEHIND YOU, to support you, to encourage you, to give you hope and belief.
I'm worried about you. I'm worried about the amount of stress you're under. I'm worried that you're having financial difficulties. I'm worried that you're burying yourself in work because you won't deal with everything I put you through. If there's anything I can do, please let me help you.
If you were to give yourself one birthday present I hope it would be this: take a chance that love doesn't die. Take the risk that something that seemed so true still could be. I would promise you that it would be worth it.
If you gave me one more chance I would make you these promises:
1- I would never again take your love or you for granted.
2- I would work every day to ensure that I never put your health, your career, or your heart at risk.
3- I would love you until the day. I will do that anyway, whether you give me another chance or not.
I've found a way to separate our phones, should you desire it, and I know there are things you've given me that you want back. Anything I own you can have, as much as it means to me. As much as it means to me to be able to look at things you've created, it means more to me to see you happy. It does mean a great deal to me, and I would love to hold onto it. You mean more to me.
I've tried so many things to win you back. I have tried romance, tears, sweet gestures. I don't want to give up. Please give yourself another chance with me. You owe it to yourself to finally drop the armor and believe in the love you've always wanted. It is right here waiting for you.
Happy birthday.
EVERYTHING
I feel strangely as though I'm watching the world through a fogged up bathroom mirror. Everything is gesture and flash of color dulled to a gray, not by steam, but by pain. I want to be kind enough to him to walk away. At some point I have to decide I love him enough to let him go. He won't allow any other option. I miss him every minute.
There are blisters forming on my fingers from the stress. Tiny bubbles of stress skin. I really thought the flowers would touch him. I had a job interview in Tribeca, and afterwards I had to walk by his studio to get to the train. I left a little note taped to the handelbars of his bike that said, "I love you." That would have softened my heart.
I'm worried because I was told he can't afford to buy his anti-depressants. I would pay for them. I would like to find a way to take care of him for the rest of his life. If I were rich I would buy every one of his paintings. They are so beautiful. He always puts himself first. He always has.
There's a hardness growing inside of me. I want to sing R&B breakup songs from the 90s. I will never love again. These 50 year old men who've seen the world know pain. They tell me I will get over this. Nobody believes in true love anymore; nobody but me. True love is not something that disappears. It is the eternal flame.
One good thing, that's what my friend asked me to list. One thing I'm happy about is that I haven't given up. I wonder what is going through his mind. I wonder if he thinks about me. I wonder if he misses me. He must miss me. I wonder if he reaches for me.
The night before I had to make my confession we sat silently and he ignored me. We went to bed together and he turned around in the night so that his feet were nearer my head, but that was a week later when I wasn't getting where his mind was. It is all I want to be back in his arms.
There are blisters forming on my fingers from the stress. Tiny bubbles of stress skin. I really thought the flowers would touch him. I had a job interview in Tribeca, and afterwards I had to walk by his studio to get to the train. I left a little note taped to the handelbars of his bike that said, "I love you." That would have softened my heart.
I'm worried because I was told he can't afford to buy his anti-depressants. I would pay for them. I would like to find a way to take care of him for the rest of his life. If I were rich I would buy every one of his paintings. They are so beautiful. He always puts himself first. He always has.
There's a hardness growing inside of me. I want to sing R&B breakup songs from the 90s. I will never love again. These 50 year old men who've seen the world know pain. They tell me I will get over this. Nobody believes in true love anymore; nobody but me. True love is not something that disappears. It is the eternal flame.
One good thing, that's what my friend asked me to list. One thing I'm happy about is that I haven't given up. I wonder what is going through his mind. I wonder if he thinks about me. I wonder if he misses me. He must miss me. I wonder if he reaches for me.
The night before I had to make my confession we sat silently and he ignored me. We went to bed together and he turned around in the night so that his feet were nearer my head, but that was a week later when I wasn't getting where his mind was. It is all I want to be back in his arms.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Destroy all monsters
There are sirens everywhere. I feel guilty. The faucet on our bathroom came off the wall tonight, spraying water everywhere. My roommate had stood holding it for a half hour before I got home. It isn't because of the three baths I've taken in six months. I feel guilty about something unrelated.
I've taken this as far as I can, stepping over lines the entire time, I'm sure. Where the line is drawn is an unrelenting space. I saw some of his friends. All day. I did something small and something big. I enjoyed watching a talented person perform his craft and life's passion. He laid into me about the truth.
So much is going on, it keeps coming back to the faucet. Last night I physically felt as though a giant fist was pummeling me to the ground. This monstrous thing sung me to sleep, eventually. I had my cards read. The only answer I wanted was to do with him, but I also expected something touching on my health. Instead it was all about my career. Instead it was all about my lack of a career, I should say.
I tried to get out of this room. I had a job interview. I had a shave. For the interview, I shaved. I think I might take that up again. For the time being, I have to keep trying to get out of this room. I just need to follow my heart. At some point I need to surrender, and I'm not sure when. I'd like to focus on my career, too. I'd like to focus on my lack of career, I should say.
I wasn't in any physical pain last night. My health is fine. I am still waiting for insurance. I was told less than ten days. My world is in turmoil. There is a storm in my heart; hurricanes in my backyard. Dreams do die, but when do you let them go? I am the drunk photographer. Now I get it.
2 dozen roses is probably enough. I just happened to be walking by. The bouquet was premeditated, but it was big enough to have a mind of its own. It's his birthday in two days. I wish I could love him and have it be anything less than passionate. I've been told to give it up. It's been a month. It's only been a month.
Do what I love, that's my mantra. Do what you love and the rest will follow. I don't really know what I love right now. Only what love left, I can't believe. I have a mantra now, apparently. If the cards are right there's nothing else. Only one of the stages of grief is denial. I want to say, "I don't know when trying to win you back gets to the point of ceasing to be romantic." He would say, "it has," but there's a chance. He says not. Who do you believe when it comes to love? The courts have the answer, but boundaries should be respected. I won't text him again. It's only been a month. I don't think a lifetime is really too much to ask.
He wants to melt down the gold from our rings. That one hurt. I was going to ask for one. He can't afford his meds. Not AIDS meds, like I can't afford. The pills that made him have such stamina. It was wonderful. How does he not have any money? I'd give him all of mine. He wants stuff from the bag I gave Gregg. It makes me hopeful that he wants stuff. Some part of me, he wants to keep. Probably just his own artwork. It doesn't matter to me. I'll take what I can get. He's already melted my heart.
I am going to become a dragon and torch the earth so I can feed on the ashes. A dragon, my romanticized notion of the monster I've become. He claims to love monsters.
I've taken this as far as I can, stepping over lines the entire time, I'm sure. Where the line is drawn is an unrelenting space. I saw some of his friends. All day. I did something small and something big. I enjoyed watching a talented person perform his craft and life's passion. He laid into me about the truth.
So much is going on, it keeps coming back to the faucet. Last night I physically felt as though a giant fist was pummeling me to the ground. This monstrous thing sung me to sleep, eventually. I had my cards read. The only answer I wanted was to do with him, but I also expected something touching on my health. Instead it was all about my career. Instead it was all about my lack of a career, I should say.
I tried to get out of this room. I had a job interview. I had a shave. For the interview, I shaved. I think I might take that up again. For the time being, I have to keep trying to get out of this room. I just need to follow my heart. At some point I need to surrender, and I'm not sure when. I'd like to focus on my career, too. I'd like to focus on my lack of career, I should say.
I wasn't in any physical pain last night. My health is fine. I am still waiting for insurance. I was told less than ten days. My world is in turmoil. There is a storm in my heart; hurricanes in my backyard. Dreams do die, but when do you let them go? I am the drunk photographer. Now I get it.
2 dozen roses is probably enough. I just happened to be walking by. The bouquet was premeditated, but it was big enough to have a mind of its own. It's his birthday in two days. I wish I could love him and have it be anything less than passionate. I've been told to give it up. It's been a month. It's only been a month.
Do what I love, that's my mantra. Do what you love and the rest will follow. I don't really know what I love right now. Only what love left, I can't believe. I have a mantra now, apparently. If the cards are right there's nothing else. Only one of the stages of grief is denial. I want to say, "I don't know when trying to win you back gets to the point of ceasing to be romantic." He would say, "it has," but there's a chance. He says not. Who do you believe when it comes to love? The courts have the answer, but boundaries should be respected. I won't text him again. It's only been a month. I don't think a lifetime is really too much to ask.
He wants to melt down the gold from our rings. That one hurt. I was going to ask for one. He can't afford his meds. Not AIDS meds, like I can't afford. The pills that made him have such stamina. It was wonderful. How does he not have any money? I'd give him all of mine. He wants stuff from the bag I gave Gregg. It makes me hopeful that he wants stuff. Some part of me, he wants to keep. Probably just his own artwork. It doesn't matter to me. I'll take what I can get. He's already melted my heart.
I am going to become a dragon and torch the earth so I can feed on the ashes. A dragon, my romanticized notion of the monster I've become. He claims to love monsters.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Compassion
I once helped a lady move from a storage space in Connecticut into a midtown apartment that she'd won in a divorce. On the ride back into the city, through rush hour traffic and too many boroughs the subject of compassion came up. She admonished me to be conscious of the level of compassion my lover had to offer. I didn't worry about it. I knew he was a highly compassionate person.
Now I am not sure what the definition of compassion is. Dictionary.com defines it as: a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering. If that's the case, this doesn't qualify, but I know he has it in him. He could alleviate my suffering with a single word, and chooses not to. I could get through anything with his support.
I have changed my life so much because of his encouragement and support. I have stopped drinking, whoring, doing drugs. I have stopped whining and started doing. I have learned so much from his words and deeds. He used to tell me he was proud of me. I loved hearing that. I feel proud of him. I could have done it on my own, but it went faster because there was somebody to push me when I needed it and to hold me when I needed it.
I know that I am being taught a lesson. A hard lesson. In an attempt to feel less alone I tried to stop in at a friend's on the way to work, but when I looked through the window there was a group gathered and I couldn't face them. Instead I found a stoop down the street, pulled my hood over my eyes, and gave in to the tears of deep sadness while I waited for the clock to tick down. I don't even care what I look like, or how pathetic it looks for a man of 31 to be weeping like a child in the middle of the East Village.
There is only one person who could really stop this loneliness, and he refuses. I have tried to explain to him, to encourage him, to persuade him. He won't have it. I'm worried that he's growing afraid of me. I know he's grown tired of me. I just don't know how to avoid fighting for the one thing I want more than anything. I know that a cure for AIDS is inevitable, and I simply have to survive the next few years until there's a breakthrough. I don't know how to survive the next few minutes without him.
One of the many attempts I've made is this email:
"When I told you that you were my family, I should have been more clear. You have reached a place in my heart where nobody else could ever be, a space all your own. It's like it was made just for you and you never have to share it. I understand and accept you for who you are. Even this, no matter how much I'm hurting and no matter how much I wish it could be otherwise. I understand; and I know it's my fault for not being stronger, for not protecting you.....Just like one of the tattoos on your beautiful soft skin, there is a part of you inside of my heart that will never rub off, never disappear. I am not capable of many things, but of this I am. I don't give my heart away so easily. I can sift through the broken pieces to find the parts that are yours, but I see you there, with your shiny kind eyes, your soft comforting lips. It is you. It is you only. My family, my love, the holder of my heart to do with as you please: to honor in sickness or in health, or to stomp on, to run from, to throw away."
I know there's a ton of emotional debris to dig through, but at the bottom of whatever he's feeling I know there's a golden compassionate heart. I just wish I could reach it.
Another
I should still be asleep but with the crack of dawn comes that crack in my brain that spills his name into my new consciousness. Each morning the world says, "Rebirth," and each morning he says, "I'm still gone." I will not give up on him. I wish I could show him my heart on a platter.
He is afraid, or confused, or angry, or all three. I don't blame him, but if we try we can fly. I really believe that. Last night I spent a good portion of the night trying to convince him of that. I don't know if he's worried about himself or me. I sent him a few emails, to which he didn't respond. I sent him a text message saying, "I hope you had a wonderful day that made you believe in the power of love." I know he loves me.
He responded to that, but he has just shut himself off. He said he makes a better friend. I've never had him as a friend, only a lover. I know that I'm annoying him, but I just can't give up. I won't give up. It's been a month since I found out I was positive. That month has been the most painful and life altering month in my life. I wish he could have been there for me the whole time. I wish I could have found sanctuary in his arms.
He wants to focus on his career, he says. I always helped him with that. I've done all of his writing for him, including interviews and forwards. I've done graphic design for him. I've created entire shows just so I could showcase him. I've sold his work. I've promoted him. I've opened doors that he only had to walk through.
I wish he would walk through this door I'm opening. I want him back. I want another chance. I want what we had, though I know that can't be. I want to rebuild something better from the ashes of our dream, so that love, like the phoenix, can spread its wings and soar high above the petty problems that should never be able to hold it down.
He is afraid, or confused, or angry, or all three. I don't blame him, but if we try we can fly. I really believe that. Last night I spent a good portion of the night trying to convince him of that. I don't know if he's worried about himself or me. I sent him a few emails, to which he didn't respond. I sent him a text message saying, "I hope you had a wonderful day that made you believe in the power of love." I know he loves me.
He responded to that, but he has just shut himself off. He said he makes a better friend. I've never had him as a friend, only a lover. I know that I'm annoying him, but I just can't give up. I won't give up. It's been a month since I found out I was positive. That month has been the most painful and life altering month in my life. I wish he could have been there for me the whole time. I wish I could have found sanctuary in his arms.
He wants to focus on his career, he says. I always helped him with that. I've done all of his writing for him, including interviews and forwards. I've done graphic design for him. I've created entire shows just so I could showcase him. I've sold his work. I've promoted him. I've opened doors that he only had to walk through.
I wish he would walk through this door I'm opening. I want him back. I want another chance. I want what we had, though I know that can't be. I want to rebuild something better from the ashes of our dream, so that love, like the phoenix, can spread its wings and soar high above the petty problems that should never be able to hold it down.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
How could I not want you back?
You are the most talented and exciting artist I've ever encountered
You are driven to do something with that talent
You are smart
You are energetic
You are kind
You are compassionate
You are generous
You are practical
You strive for the highest ideals and standards
You are beautiful
You are fun
You are responsible
You are a lover
You are a giver
You are a genius
You are a brilliant business-man
You are making your dreams come true
You have the nicest eyes
You have soft pink lips
You have the purest white skin
You have the cutest ears
You have sexy nipples
You have the perfect ass
You have the nicest feet
You have big full balls
You have a great cock
You have the nicest chest hair for putting a head on
You have great style
You always look good
You always treat others with respect
You always make everyone around you smile
you know how to work a room
you are great one on one
you make people fall in love with you
you rekindle people's love for the world
you inspire
you ignite passion
you push boundaries
you move forward.
You are driven to do something with that talent
You are smart
You are energetic
You are kind
You are compassionate
You are generous
You are practical
You strive for the highest ideals and standards
You are beautiful
You are fun
You are responsible
You are a lover
You are a giver
You are a genius
You are a brilliant business-man
You are making your dreams come true
You have the nicest eyes
You have soft pink lips
You have the purest white skin
You have the cutest ears
You have sexy nipples
You have the perfect ass
You have the nicest feet
You have big full balls
You have a great cock
You have the nicest chest hair for putting a head on
You have great style
You always look good
You always treat others with respect
You always make everyone around you smile
you know how to work a room
you are great one on one
you make people fall in love with you
you rekindle people's love for the world
you inspire
you ignite passion
you push boundaries
you move forward.
A list of sins is not a prayer
Every morning I wake up to the sound of my own weeping and reach for him, certain this has all been a terrible dream. It's always too early to be up, but then I'd rather not wake up at all. I call to him with every cell in my body, withered with disease though they may be. How I am meant to go on in the world I can't understand.
This morning is gray. It's appropriate that the nights are getting colder. Without him my whole world is cold. People keep trying to comfort me, bring me some solace, but there is none for me. I am completely adrift in a sea of my own tears. All day long my mind screams, "relent."
Hypocrisy is something I've never really been able to tolerate in other people, but I realize I am guilty of it now. I would get so jealous and insecure when I watched him flirt with other guys. In photographs and in person he would never say no to a little attention, though he denied me any public displays of affection. I often tried talking to him about the way I felt but he would just tell me I didn't have anything to worry about and that I wasn't being reasonable. Perhaps not. In the end, I was the one who broke the faith.
Actually, we never really had an agreement of monogamy anyway, but I always was. I never wanted anyone else; even before I met him; even the day I cheated on him. It was always him. It still is. I wish I could make him understand that that one day was a reminder to me of all I valued in him. The irony is that it pushed me back to him after a huge fight, and it pulled him away from me when I was honest about it.
If he could just look into my heart he would hold me tight and never let me go. I'm as sure of that as I am sure of the air that I breathe. If he could just look into my eyes he would see all of the combined sadness of the world. There is such misery in it. I am selfish to even dwell on my own pain when there are so many others whose lives are much worse.
I deserve this disease. I deserve to die of it. My blood was putrid and stagnant anyway. These are the things I tell myself now to try to cajole myself into action, but I fail at that, too. What action I could take is unknown to me. There is nothing I can do. There is only one thing I want to do, and that is to reach for him in the morning, and find him there. I would curl up next to him, kiss his soft skin, and say, "I had a terrible dream."
This morning is gray. It's appropriate that the nights are getting colder. Without him my whole world is cold. People keep trying to comfort me, bring me some solace, but there is none for me. I am completely adrift in a sea of my own tears. All day long my mind screams, "relent."
Hypocrisy is something I've never really been able to tolerate in other people, but I realize I am guilty of it now. I would get so jealous and insecure when I watched him flirt with other guys. In photographs and in person he would never say no to a little attention, though he denied me any public displays of affection. I often tried talking to him about the way I felt but he would just tell me I didn't have anything to worry about and that I wasn't being reasonable. Perhaps not. In the end, I was the one who broke the faith.
Actually, we never really had an agreement of monogamy anyway, but I always was. I never wanted anyone else; even before I met him; even the day I cheated on him. It was always him. It still is. I wish I could make him understand that that one day was a reminder to me of all I valued in him. The irony is that it pushed me back to him after a huge fight, and it pulled him away from me when I was honest about it.
If he could just look into my heart he would hold me tight and never let me go. I'm as sure of that as I am sure of the air that I breathe. If he could just look into my eyes he would see all of the combined sadness of the world. There is such misery in it. I am selfish to even dwell on my own pain when there are so many others whose lives are much worse.
I deserve this disease. I deserve to die of it. My blood was putrid and stagnant anyway. These are the things I tell myself now to try to cajole myself into action, but I fail at that, too. What action I could take is unknown to me. There is nothing I can do. There is only one thing I want to do, and that is to reach for him in the morning, and find him there. I would curl up next to him, kiss his soft skin, and say, "I had a terrible dream."
Monday, September 5, 2011
All I want for the future is the past
I've been crying out for help for weeks now. I use social media since I have very few friends, and even fewer I can count on. Always having been a private person, I've had to close off in a lot of ways. It's always been difficult for me to trust people. Part of that stems from having been abused and neglected as a child. Part of that stems from having been betrayed many times over since then. It's almost easier to cry out in a way where there's no disappointment if nobody responds.
Some people have been responding though, most notably my aunt. Today we had a nice chat through Facebook. While it didn't make me feel any better, it brought up some interesting points. She reminded me that the most obvious reason why things had gotten to this point was that my ex was hiding things and unable to take the responsibility of those actions. It still feels weird to write, "my ex." I don't know what else to call him besides, "love of my life and pain in my aching heart."
What she failed to comprehend, and what I failed to properly tell the "lomlapimah," is this: I don't care about what he was hiding. I fully accept who he is. I know his love meanders. I know his trust is the hardest thing won and the easiest thing lost. I know HIM. He may not fully appreciate that now or ever, but I know him. I've taken the time to understand him. When I say I love him, I don't mean some ideal, or some version with slight tweaks. I mean him. The man he is, the man he isn't. I love all of it.
Did I want more attention? Yes. Did I need more honesty? Yes. Despite that, I forgave him for his lies. In calling him on them I didn't mean to drive him away, or make him think I didn't love him. I only wanted to let him know that there was no reason for them. That's what hurt me. The pain came from knowing that he could have told me anything and I would have accepted it and forgiven him.
This I can't accept. This running away from me is unbelievable, unforgivable. I don't believe he will ever find anyone who can. I want to tell him I'll be there for him at the end of it all. I want to take care of him, but he doesn't need it. I want to support him, but he won't allow it. I want to break through the barriers.
This is how the future will go: He's already found his next boyfriend. He wouldn't have left me if he hadn't. He and Jonathon will be happy for a few months. Their issues will seem compatible, then they will diverge. I will be waiting, still. I will be holding on to his memory.
What I want out of this life is to be by his side. It's not too much to ask, but it's a whole lot to expect, more now than ever. Not having that to look forward to is driving me crazy. I can take one pill a day, that is no problem at all, but I can't figure out what to do with myself, what goals to try to achieve, without the hope.
I don't really have too many people I can talk to. I stopped counting on my family long ago, and stopped allowing them to count on me. I stopped opening myself up to people who only seemed to want to use that knowledge to wound me. I became a shell, a mirror, a mirage. I allowed one person to become my family. He was my husband, he was my best friend; often my only friend.
There is nothing I wouldn't give or do to make things right with him, but it is not in my hands. Forgiveness, he has it and I need it. Acceptance, he has it and I need it. Tolerance, he has it and I need it. Everything I am is a psychic clarion, calling him back to me, every single second of every day. I've done many things I'm not proud of in the past, but in giving my heart to him I have only one regret, and it is this: my heart believes.
Some people have been responding though, most notably my aunt. Today we had a nice chat through Facebook. While it didn't make me feel any better, it brought up some interesting points. She reminded me that the most obvious reason why things had gotten to this point was that my ex was hiding things and unable to take the responsibility of those actions. It still feels weird to write, "my ex." I don't know what else to call him besides, "love of my life and pain in my aching heart."
What she failed to comprehend, and what I failed to properly tell the "lomlapimah," is this: I don't care about what he was hiding. I fully accept who he is. I know his love meanders. I know his trust is the hardest thing won and the easiest thing lost. I know HIM. He may not fully appreciate that now or ever, but I know him. I've taken the time to understand him. When I say I love him, I don't mean some ideal, or some version with slight tweaks. I mean him. The man he is, the man he isn't. I love all of it.
Did I want more attention? Yes. Did I need more honesty? Yes. Despite that, I forgave him for his lies. In calling him on them I didn't mean to drive him away, or make him think I didn't love him. I only wanted to let him know that there was no reason for them. That's what hurt me. The pain came from knowing that he could have told me anything and I would have accepted it and forgiven him.
This I can't accept. This running away from me is unbelievable, unforgivable. I don't believe he will ever find anyone who can. I want to tell him I'll be there for him at the end of it all. I want to take care of him, but he doesn't need it. I want to support him, but he won't allow it. I want to break through the barriers.
This is how the future will go: He's already found his next boyfriend. He wouldn't have left me if he hadn't. He and Jonathon will be happy for a few months. Their issues will seem compatible, then they will diverge. I will be waiting, still. I will be holding on to his memory.
What I want out of this life is to be by his side. It's not too much to ask, but it's a whole lot to expect, more now than ever. Not having that to look forward to is driving me crazy. I can take one pill a day, that is no problem at all, but I can't figure out what to do with myself, what goals to try to achieve, without the hope.
I don't really have too many people I can talk to. I stopped counting on my family long ago, and stopped allowing them to count on me. I stopped opening myself up to people who only seemed to want to use that knowledge to wound me. I became a shell, a mirror, a mirage. I allowed one person to become my family. He was my husband, he was my best friend; often my only friend.
There is nothing I wouldn't give or do to make things right with him, but it is not in my hands. Forgiveness, he has it and I need it. Acceptance, he has it and I need it. Tolerance, he has it and I need it. Everything I am is a psychic clarion, calling him back to me, every single second of every day. I've done many things I'm not proud of in the past, but in giving my heart to him I have only one regret, and it is this: my heart believes.
Dreams do die
I was diagnosed with AIDS this month. Part of it seems inevitable. Part of it seems like I have nobody to blame but myself. Part of it seems like the fault of the United States Government, who I'm sure created it during the Reagan years. Mea culpa; the most appropriate of farces; the most appropriate of phrases. I don't know what else to do, so I write.
At first, I tried writing to my fiance, though he is no longer that to me. The news destroyed us. It tore a true love apart so quickly that I can't even wrap my heart around it. I love him more than he will ever know, and more than he will ever again allow me to. Worse than the fear of living with this disease while it eats through my body, is the certainty that I will have to live with him eating through my soul. AIDS is manageable, even with my T-cell count down around 175. Losing him is not something I think I can get over.
We met at a party for a magazine we were both featured in, but I've always been convinced I've known him my whole life. He walked in and his mere presence caused an ache in my heart, an ache to be known to him, to touch him. He's beautiful, even still, but this was more than that. This was the sound of something clicking into place; a part of me I'd always known was missing but didn't know where to find. This was IT. I had to leave immediately. I couldn't bear to be in the same room as him and not be sitting with him, talking to him, loving him.
He is the man of my dreams. If I were to write a list, it would include all that he is: beautiful, strong, talented, kind, generous, compassionate, driven, focused.... I could go on listing his virtues for the rest of my life. I have never been so virtuous, but when I love I love with my whole heart. I found that out because of him. I really believed we were soul mates, right from the beginning.
We didn't begin to spend time together until a few weeks later. I friended him on Facebook and found out he was having an art show. I brought a friend and we were one of three or four people there. Loving him was easy and I dove in headfirst. Flirting became more serious. We progressed from half-joking lap dances to one special slow dance; the first one since those awkward high school years. My heart fluttered just the same. Here I was, a jaded New Yorker feeling love for the first time.
It's been two years since I've known him, but that doesn't include the 29 years I knew there had to be someone like him in the world.
The past few months have been bad, I'll admit. He's been consumed by his work and unable to hear when I told him I wasn't getting what I needed. I forgave him, of course, and accepted that this was part of who he was, knew it couldn't last forever, tried to be patient. Instead of hearing me, he began to lie to me, and avoid the issues by cutting me out. First he stopped allowing me to help him in his studio. Next he stopped allowing me to do social things with him, so that the only times I ever saw him were when he was exhausted from a long day, and could only stare mutely at the television or computer screen.
The first lie I found out about caused a huge rift. I had been scrimping and saving to buy him a present from a mutual friend. It was a custom made wallet chain with skulls all down it, and it is the most expensive thing I've ever bought. I'm still paying for it, actually. I'd been so focused on trying to get this ready for him, not because he deserved it, but because once he'd casually mentioned that he wanted it. That was enough of a reason for me to get it, just to see him smile. He has a perfect smile and I'm so sad that I took it away for even one day.
I left it, and my engagement ring, on his table the night he lied. I left a note that said, "this is the only thing I've been keeping from you." I'd tried to have the conversation in person. I went to his house, let myself in with the keys he'd given me, and hoped to meet him. He wasn't there, but something about the situation scared him. He freaked out and threatened to call the cops on me while I cried in his bed, huge sobs of utter despair that he could treat me like a crazy person when all I was trying to do was prove my love.
The next day I thought all was over. I felt the way I do now: alone, bereft, unwanted. I felt like we were never going to get past that, and it turns out we didn't, but I no longer know what is cause and what is effect. I had a sexual encounter, not even high risk, with someone I knew before him, someone who offered me comfort and support, someone who made me feel like I wasn't crazy, someone who made me feel desired. It wasn't much. It was more than I had that day, so much more. It was enough.
Three days later we made up, but it was a cold sort of making up. I wanted to see a couples counsellor, not because of the problems, but because I wanted better solutions. He refused. He also refused to give any apology for his lies and he put all the blame on me, saying I needed to see a shrink. We spent a few hours together, in which I'd planned things I knew he would enjoy, but he couldn't enjoy them. He couldn't enjoy me. Still I had hope and things began to improve.
Soon after, I began to get night sweats and a rash. I thought it was from stress due to the insidious case of bedbugs we'd been dealing with, or from work. It wasn't. My fiance and I had a talk in which I had to confess what had happened. He's since posted that for every action there is a reaction, but for every inaction there is, too. If I could place blame I would. I only know that I am responsible for the choices I make. I was weak, I was hopeless, I was utterly destroyed, but those are just excuses.
Now I am weak, hopeless, and utterly destroyed, but those are just consequences. AIDS is manageable. I am on some meds, and I have applied for a drug assistance program that can act as insurance. I know I can live a long healthy life. Doctors and nurses I've spoken to keep comparing it to diabetes. I think that's a bit diminutive. You don't get diabetes by doing things you know you shouldn't. I am a tainted piece of flesh.
This taint though, it is not from the virus. This stain, these four scarlet letters, they are just going to be a constant reminder. Every day when I take my pills, or when I go to work I will know. This life I am prolonging has already wasted away. Each dose of medicine will bear the name of the one I lost. Each morning the birds will be singing his name, and I will be unable to do anything but close the window.
At first, I tried writing to my fiance, though he is no longer that to me. The news destroyed us. It tore a true love apart so quickly that I can't even wrap my heart around it. I love him more than he will ever know, and more than he will ever again allow me to. Worse than the fear of living with this disease while it eats through my body, is the certainty that I will have to live with him eating through my soul. AIDS is manageable, even with my T-cell count down around 175. Losing him is not something I think I can get over.
We met at a party for a magazine we were both featured in, but I've always been convinced I've known him my whole life. He walked in and his mere presence caused an ache in my heart, an ache to be known to him, to touch him. He's beautiful, even still, but this was more than that. This was the sound of something clicking into place; a part of me I'd always known was missing but didn't know where to find. This was IT. I had to leave immediately. I couldn't bear to be in the same room as him and not be sitting with him, talking to him, loving him.
He is the man of my dreams. If I were to write a list, it would include all that he is: beautiful, strong, talented, kind, generous, compassionate, driven, focused.... I could go on listing his virtues for the rest of my life. I have never been so virtuous, but when I love I love with my whole heart. I found that out because of him. I really believed we were soul mates, right from the beginning.
We didn't begin to spend time together until a few weeks later. I friended him on Facebook and found out he was having an art show. I brought a friend and we were one of three or four people there. Loving him was easy and I dove in headfirst. Flirting became more serious. We progressed from half-joking lap dances to one special slow dance; the first one since those awkward high school years. My heart fluttered just the same. Here I was, a jaded New Yorker feeling love for the first time.
It's been two years since I've known him, but that doesn't include the 29 years I knew there had to be someone like him in the world.
The past few months have been bad, I'll admit. He's been consumed by his work and unable to hear when I told him I wasn't getting what I needed. I forgave him, of course, and accepted that this was part of who he was, knew it couldn't last forever, tried to be patient. Instead of hearing me, he began to lie to me, and avoid the issues by cutting me out. First he stopped allowing me to help him in his studio. Next he stopped allowing me to do social things with him, so that the only times I ever saw him were when he was exhausted from a long day, and could only stare mutely at the television or computer screen.
The first lie I found out about caused a huge rift. I had been scrimping and saving to buy him a present from a mutual friend. It was a custom made wallet chain with skulls all down it, and it is the most expensive thing I've ever bought. I'm still paying for it, actually. I'd been so focused on trying to get this ready for him, not because he deserved it, but because once he'd casually mentioned that he wanted it. That was enough of a reason for me to get it, just to see him smile. He has a perfect smile and I'm so sad that I took it away for even one day.
I left it, and my engagement ring, on his table the night he lied. I left a note that said, "this is the only thing I've been keeping from you." I'd tried to have the conversation in person. I went to his house, let myself in with the keys he'd given me, and hoped to meet him. He wasn't there, but something about the situation scared him. He freaked out and threatened to call the cops on me while I cried in his bed, huge sobs of utter despair that he could treat me like a crazy person when all I was trying to do was prove my love.
The next day I thought all was over. I felt the way I do now: alone, bereft, unwanted. I felt like we were never going to get past that, and it turns out we didn't, but I no longer know what is cause and what is effect. I had a sexual encounter, not even high risk, with someone I knew before him, someone who offered me comfort and support, someone who made me feel like I wasn't crazy, someone who made me feel desired. It wasn't much. It was more than I had that day, so much more. It was enough.
Three days later we made up, but it was a cold sort of making up. I wanted to see a couples counsellor, not because of the problems, but because I wanted better solutions. He refused. He also refused to give any apology for his lies and he put all the blame on me, saying I needed to see a shrink. We spent a few hours together, in which I'd planned things I knew he would enjoy, but he couldn't enjoy them. He couldn't enjoy me. Still I had hope and things began to improve.
Soon after, I began to get night sweats and a rash. I thought it was from stress due to the insidious case of bedbugs we'd been dealing with, or from work. It wasn't. My fiance and I had a talk in which I had to confess what had happened. He's since posted that for every action there is a reaction, but for every inaction there is, too. If I could place blame I would. I only know that I am responsible for the choices I make. I was weak, I was hopeless, I was utterly destroyed, but those are just excuses.
Now I am weak, hopeless, and utterly destroyed, but those are just consequences. AIDS is manageable. I am on some meds, and I have applied for a drug assistance program that can act as insurance. I know I can live a long healthy life. Doctors and nurses I've spoken to keep comparing it to diabetes. I think that's a bit diminutive. You don't get diabetes by doing things you know you shouldn't. I am a tainted piece of flesh.
This taint though, it is not from the virus. This stain, these four scarlet letters, they are just going to be a constant reminder. Every day when I take my pills, or when I go to work I will know. This life I am prolonging has already wasted away. Each dose of medicine will bear the name of the one I lost. Each morning the birds will be singing his name, and I will be unable to do anything but close the window.
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