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She had nothing to say, but she wanted to say it... again.
Yesterday, she actually looked up the word auto fiction. perhaps it's what she does. who knows. there wasn't any more to say though.
she could call up some nice memory and regurgitate it - like eating vomit.
Maybe she could describe her lost hopes again, but it all felt kind of empty - like a madness - a fever that has finally left after thinking twenty times before it was gone.
she missed him.
it wasn't just the future - the possibility. she missed the way he talked - the way he got it - the way he could cut through the chaos with a clear thrust - the way he was an island of stoic calm confidence. she loved how popular he was - how good he was at social things. she loved his grumpiness. his reticence. so much more. she thought of him recently when she was cutting her home-grown tomatoes - the first of the season - and how complaining about her knives all being too dull to cut a tomato, he sheepishly "don't make a big deal about it" brought a knife sharpener on his next visit. she loved his values. she loved that he cared. she loved how playful and irreverent he was. she loved how nervous he got when he had to confront someone but how he did it (just not her of course). she loved just seeing his face.
she was tired of crying but when she calls him up - the worst is the gone tap on the glass to signal his arrival - she could easily weep. she had deleted all the photos except for one where he was smiling (ironically of course) in downtown for the cheesy Christmas lights. so many people told her so many times that she could find twenty better than him - men that would actually like her and tell her so - who would be "of course" when asked if she were the only focus.
but you know the deal, if just anyone could do it - that old lie people said "I just want someone who can care that I'm annoyed at the cats..." it wasn't that. she didn't want "just someone", she was wiser now. she knew she wanted all of it.
someone who sparked her
who made her wake up and breathe and go "who are you. I'm so glad you're finally here."
she was weird. weirder than many. she wasn't going to find very many. she hadn't found very many - maybe three. and she flooded it all out with the wounded desperation of "since I love you, you trigger the deepest wound possible, I'll be fighting on two fronts: believing that you like me and believing that you're going to hurt me. it sucks. just imagine it. I'll trade you by imagining yours: locked away with no risk forever thinking it's just bad luck and never you."
"it's both of us. you're not the only fucked up one."
"I know"
"it's useful to know."
"I hope to find that out."
she let the cats drive her into another morning temper tantrum, "WHAT DO YOU WANT!!!!" to one and "SHUT THE FUCK UP" to the other - all with fleas attached.
she made pasta with all of the things she had left and in the garden: Thai basil, olive oil, garlic, asiago, salt. she ate it before 8am. it was a hot humid day. she was going to go inside her head again and not care. she had thought she tried. she had known she had given herself away. she hoped to have a next time. she didn't really believe she ever would. and would the warning be enough? could she say it correctly, "hey, I don't mean to be presumptuous, but just in case you like me, just know that I struggle with trying to preemptively grieve your loss because I'm still working on gaining my self-worth back from some set-backs. can you work with that?"
a doe crossed the street.
her heart broke. she had read that 98% of the virgin forests had been destroyed. she knew it but god being a fucking human was a ... seeing the dogs in the concrete cages. it all hurt.
she would try again not to eat meat.
she always did try.
"I love you so much. I feel stupid for still loving you for making it into a deeper deal bringing my shitty childhood programming into it."
"god, you really don't have to explain. we're all fucked up."
"yeah, I tried not explaining once. it didn't really work. so, I'm trying to just explain the easiest part. I'm going to need reassurance. and I'm going to need space."
"I'm in."
"I won't believe you. I'll think you're deceived by my brilliant persona, but I'll want to believe you so badly."
"how could I make you believe me? is there any way?"
"don't go."
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