THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
It was the kind of day that, in the past, would have set my heart aflutter, would have turned a thousand cogs in my head. I would have been filled with maybes and could bes and want- infinite want.
Tonight, after having sat in his bar all day, drunk and sleepy, having had him hold my hands, having had him come back to my house, sit in my kitchen for five hours, ingesting a mountain of cocaine while I drank tea from a mug another boy bought me, telling me about the troubles with his girlfriend, telling me his troubles-
I am happy simply to have him,
To have him back, to be back- back in good standing, back within emotional range-
His girlfriend was furious he had been with me all day. I found no satisfaction, I am just sad for him, a little worried. I tell him to talk to me if he needs to, talk to me if he wants.
I talk in group about how strange it is to so actively now manage and maintain relationships. That I very actively try to be people's friend. That this is really hard, often very contrary to what I immediately want, or what is comfortable.
I tried harder with him than anyone, ever, and I don't know why. But when he's high in my kitchen and I'm telling him how I feel about things and a few tears slide out and he says, I know you better than anyone
It is true
It was true then,
It remains true