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When a person has no other persons he invents them because he was not designed to be alone, because it isn’t good to be alone.
-Donald Miller
And so I wonder at times if I have invented you. If all of this was some sort of dream, a figment of my imagination. Like in the end, this will all have been an illusion of the “Fight Club” or Shyamalan sort. The large portrait of you applying mascara could be just an empty frame. My memory of you applying that mascara, and of me taking the photo, just something that I created so that I wouldn’t feel so alone.
Are the ghosts that I feel of you in this house truly just ghosts? Was it just a ghost all along? Did I really take those walks with you recently? Those dinners?
I do feel so alone at times. I do anything I can to avoid it, but sometimes you have to face it. Was it all a dream? You sleeping beside me, was that just a pillow like I realize it is now.
Donald had his Emily Dickinson, a live-in creation wrought from words on a page. Maybe you are just my Emily, wrought from a dream of my utmost desires. A “Weird Science” type creation. Are you there? Here? Were you ever?
Say yes, and wake me from this insanity.

When I awoke and went out to my car this morning there was frost covering it. It is the first frost I have seen this year, but it very well may be the last. After a weekend, it is somewhat of a delight to get up on Monday morning, usually cranky, and see the world bathed in that refracted light. I came on in to work with angular sun all around, and down the street and under the buildings and tunnels to where I park. The light got blotted out. Everything was artificial. I thought of Mexico again. I haven’t thought about it in a while. My thought was selfish, it was, once again, of you not being in this town. I haven’t really felt a whole lot of sorrow in the last few days, but I did in that moment. This is not something that I haven’t already told you. I don’t want to feel like I am writing the same words over and over. I came out the other end of the tunnel and into the light. I dried my eyes of their light moisture, decided to smile, and started Monday.

Last night seems like a dream to me now, especially as I have spent the majority of the day alone here – not bad, but just alone. You in that motley dress seems like something that cannot be anymore, not here, or for me. Those boot should only be something that stomps over my heart. You across the table from me, even at that oppressive restaurant, was like I was on a date with Audrey Hepburn.
The weird thing about all of this, G, is that I have been through enough therapy now to strip me bare; to strip my thoughts about me and you bare. I realize now that there was a dependence, at least on my part – an addiction to you that probably was unfair to both of us. I have been led down a path that allows me to view these facts a little more objectively now. I have been stripped bare.
The fact is, though, at the end of every day, I still am so in love with you. I talked to Steve about this recently and he finally acquiesced. I feel that I may have finally taught my therapist something after all of the lessons he has given me. After all the bad, and anger, and frustration, and humiliation, and depression that I have felt after our breakup, I still love you, want you, and think that you are what I have always searched for. This has been liberating for me. To know that I was not living a lie, is incredibly freeing.
I am glad that you are finding God again on your own terms, and in a way that makes sense to you. I have managed to do that too. It, too, is incredibly liberating.
You spoke last night of seeing beauty in things again. I do that too, and it makes things seem so worth living for now. Today I saw a tandem, child-mother, bike rolling through the Highlands and it brought tears to my eyes, out of the blue, completely unexpected.
The world energizes me now in the way that you once did. Not that you have lost the capability of doing that. Last night, hugging you on the side of McLendon – on your end – made me tingle with life and contentment as well. My life tends to fill me up these days: the things I see, feel, experience…
I still hope for us though. I feel like I found what I was looking for once, and I do not feel I was mistaken. It may not ever be able to be again. I understand that. I am willing to leave it up to God and time as well. I do think that you still hang around for a reason though. You do not think of me in Hell for a reason. I think this still hurts us both for a reason as well. I think we realize that there was, and possibly still is, potential there. I don’t know that you have ever experienced anything like you felt with me, and I know I have never felt anything like I felt, and feel, for you.
I see a beauty in you now, with your new mindset and quest, that I never experienced before – not that you needed any more beauty. You are still the most incredible and infectious person I have ever been around, even after the dependancy has been stripped away.
I hope you have slept well. I hope you always do. I hope occasionally, though, that you miss me holding you tight. I miss the request, just as much as my arms miss you.

You give me wings (not Red Bull)

I may ruin it, but I received your text message tonight, and felt like jumping for joy. I was at the Winchester playing darts for the first time in three weeks when I pulled out my phone and you were there. How many times have I asked you to have dinner with me? How many times did you say that you did not think it was the right timing? I hope me writing this doesn’t make you think that the timing is still not right. I don’t know what else to say but, yes, yes, yes. I know it will be an attempt at being friends ultimately, but I remember the last time that we had dinner was when my parents were in town in September. I miss eating with you, G. I guess that is not all I miss, and I am sure you still miss things too, but dinner was 90% of the time so nice.
I still drive by Trinity Place on my way back from Steve’s office every Tuesday now. I think of the irony as I run on the opposite direction from the way I came in 2003: rolling down Ponce and over to find you, such beautiful thing, waiting for me – unwittingly or not. I think of drinks at Carpe Diem, and dinner with my mom there.
I do not know where to take you tomorrow night. There’s a side of me that wants to go to Tijuana Garage, but that place has has vanished since we parted. There’s a side that wants to go to Manuel’s, but I know you never liked that place, or at least you didn’t like the food there. If I could afford it, I would take you to Seeger’s, but I don’t think either of us, with our peasant palates, would really enjoy it.
Let me know if you have ideas. I will think of it also. Maybe BBQ? Maybe I could convince you to a movie? Maybe I will be able to show you the joy I have in my heart these days, and the love that is still there for you. Maybe.
I will hold it together, despite the fact that you still can strip me bare.

Last night I saw that you were back in town and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was like order had been restored on McLendon. I don’t feel like my end of the street is waving around in the air so much any more. I am glad you got away. I am glad you are safe. I am glad you are back.

I caught myself, this morning while having a banana for breakfast, standing in front of the photo I took of you at Ashley’s wedding. At rapt attention, and a bit of zoning out, I stared at that photo. You are so beautiful, G – radiant, shimmery, a real presence. I guess that’s what I wanted you to know.
The most beautiful woman in the world to me.

Tonight is lonely after arriving back home from hockey.
This street, without you anchoring the other end,
seems to be off-kilter,
and this end of it just undulates.
With neighbors coming over
to act the ass in front of
those folks that brought
me into this world,
I wonder what is the point?
What makes me believe in mankind,
or what you and I once held
so dearly between us.
I know that the bed will be cold.
It always is since you left.
I want to be strong, G,
pretend like I can live without you.
I can, I know this now,
but I try to play it cool,
when the longing comes,
I try not to scream,
Come back to me,
Come back to me,
baby, Baby, please,
come back to me.

My dad and I made it down to the market this afternoon after going to Stone Mountain. I needed cigarettes, I need to quit. We crossed the spot where you carved our initials into the wet cement. I saw dad look at it. He saw me look at it too. It doesn’t hurt as much now when I see it. It hasn’t for some time. There have been times when I have walked down there that I don’t even think to look at it. I always think about you not being here when I am walking up the hill back home though. I think about the times striking out for the market for frozen pizza, cigarettes, soda, etc. I liked doing that. Still do, but it was better when I was coming back to you.
While at the market I suddenly had a craving for Orangina. I could not explain it really. I never really crave the stuff even though it is tasty. I bought a big bottle and am now sitting on the porch writing, after remembering that you told me, right after moving in here, that I could bring you Orangina any time I went to the market. I did for awhile. Remember? I would have brought home a truckload today, and pulled it up the hill with my hands, if I it could’ve caused you to be waiting on the sofa for me when I got back. I get on with my life, but I can’t say that the fantasy of us having another shot has really dissipated all that much.
Have fun in Sparkle this week. I might even phone you out of the blue so be on your toes.
love you