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.
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