today I called luci.
maybe that was a mistake, but at the time it made sense. if she was with me, I would have someone to talk to; if she was with me, she wouldn't be with jason.
when she got here I realized I should have been more understanding, more forgiving... more human. she's a great person, and I enjoy every second I spend with her. I should make an effort to remember that. whatever the case we ended up driving miles (on the backroads so we could drink beer and smoke bowls in the moving car) to do nothing less than go to where he was. what a paradox.
I wondered if I would feel different after the night we'd spent, after the conversations I'd had with other people... I wondered if he'd seem less interesting, less worthy of my attention. one look at him sitting on a camping chair in tyler's room answered that question, I guess.
I noticed something as we switched from smoking outside to sitting inside in the million degree heat to smoking outside again: no matter which way I look at him - through one eye, out of the corner of my eye, dead on; at his back or his front or his side; even at his shadow, for god's sake - he's still like, the most beautiful person I've ever seen.
talking to luci after that realization felt like a chore. everything was interpretable, everything was suspect. wondering if you are in love with the same man as your best friend is exhausting. "in love" is a melodramatic and premature term, used for literary purposes only. so is the word "man", for that matter.
standing next to him at the car we were inches apart and every atom of my body yearned to reach out and touch him, to kiss him. it would have been appropriate, even... my brain convinced me otherwise though, and the perfect moment crumbled to dust in my hands. how I regret that now, sitting alone in my living room at 5 am.
I wonder if I'll ever get it right.
maybe that was a mistake, but at the time it made sense. if she was with me, I would have someone to talk to; if she was with me, she wouldn't be with jason.
when she got here I realized I should have been more understanding, more forgiving... more human. she's a great person, and I enjoy every second I spend with her. I should make an effort to remember that. whatever the case we ended up driving miles (on the backroads so we could drink beer and smoke bowls in the moving car) to do nothing less than go to where he was. what a paradox.
I wondered if I would feel different after the night we'd spent, after the conversations I'd had with other people... I wondered if he'd seem less interesting, less worthy of my attention. one look at him sitting on a camping chair in tyler's room answered that question, I guess.
I noticed something as we switched from smoking outside to sitting inside in the million degree heat to smoking outside again: no matter which way I look at him - through one eye, out of the corner of my eye, dead on; at his back or his front or his side; even at his shadow, for god's sake - he's still like, the most beautiful person I've ever seen.
talking to luci after that realization felt like a chore. everything was interpretable, everything was suspect. wondering if you are in love with the same man as your best friend is exhausting. "in love" is a melodramatic and premature term, used for literary purposes only. so is the word "man", for that matter.
standing next to him at the car we were inches apart and every atom of my body yearned to reach out and touch him, to kiss him. it would have been appropriate, even... my brain convinced me otherwise though, and the perfect moment crumbled to dust in my hands. how I regret that now, sitting alone in my living room at 5 am.
I wonder if I'll ever get it right.
