Simple Annoyances of Living

the meteorologist on television sums up the frozen february weather for the week in brightly animated pictures. he says it is snowing in Arkansas and i think of you. as always i grimace a bit. it’s mostly undetected, undetectable- I’d like to think. i am always tired on these frigid winter days; the temperature plunges far below freezing and i long for sleep. warmth. as often as possible i hide beneath my thick blankets, rustling in chemically induced dreams. my medication plays tricks. my mind. it’s the only way to sleep now. and i see your face, or his- the german boy, or even sometimes the lost dead and i dream and dream for hours, days it seems. every day is like a run on sentence.

it’s been two months but still i feel marked by the absence of him. his smile may be the thing i miss most; so many small irritations though. we both had them. everyone does, yes of course. but ours- well, we are both stubborn people. is that it? i am so bad at these things- this caring, now. especially now. this nearness. when the new guy i’m seeing pulls me close, i pull away. i am frustrated with myself; with my lack of sure direction. frustrated by my resistance to touch; closeness. i am so uptight when i do not frequently drink; when i am not drinking-
i see my past now as such a hazy time- the recent past i mean; or when it all began to go so sour.

with P, i was always thinking of things to say to him later. conversational ammo. now i feel as though i’ve been walking around the world for two months and just have all these things i want to tell him about. he was a good listener. he was very guarded. i feel i am guarded now, too. without the cushion of alcohol to help my mind present the world in a rose-colored fashion, i feel the stings much more. even in the hangovers the stinging was still far off somehow. muted; the world through glass. reality is more cruel. i see the color of his eyes in everyday objects, struggling to hide tears i don’t completely understand. after all. he’s walked away and won’t come back, ever probably. how much easier apathy is, in certain situations.
But really, if he came back, would I want it then?
I love to want what I do not have. I prefer the ideas, the fantasies- to the realities. And of course as Ms. Nin says: I work best with those who simply allow me to live with my idea of them.