My first ever Writing.com journal. |
grim is really smart. he wonders, naturally, whether any of this is worth it, whether he'd like marcus if they were to meet--basically whether the positives outweigh the negatives. an apt question, considering i complain so steadily. i guess i'd wonder the same thing, at least in a knee-jerk way. i make this mistake all the time, as at least one person reading this knows; no, he's not perfect, he's not the "be-all, end-all" of everything, but he's damn near in a lot of areas, and really, honestly, when we do have problems, when things do go wrong, it is entirely and invariably my fault. that isn't sarcasm. i'm the one who blows everything out of proportion, who requires frequent healthy deposits rather than drawing from what we've saved up (fuck his stupid checking account metaphor, but it works), who needs more when there's less to go around. i'm the one who does wacked-out things like run sniffling into the night after a bad conversation. my actions are almost never appropriate responses to his. i can't be trusted to accurately reflect the quality of his character. yes, he's smart; one of the most intelligent people i know. yes, he's caring; he said he was going to teach me love, and he did. yes, he's a gentleman, and respectful, and articulate; i would have filed him away with the rest if he weren't. there's the music thing, and there's the way we read each other, and speak to each other, the goals we share and the truths we've affirmed in one another's lives, all worthwhile but understated, because that is my mode of expression. i hold in everything but the trivial stupidity--there's no way a reader could get any impression but that he's something like satan, with nice lips. i'm the problem. i'm the fuckup. i probably don't deserve him, though if you were to ask he'd say there's no such thing as deserving (outside of the basic maslow stuff), that what a person should have is a function of what she works for. i work really hard to keep us both happy, and sometimes i overshoot, and i make me sad. his happiness is a constant; his life is good and he loves me, whyever that is. before we were ever physical i used to routinely wonder how he was doing that, making my heart pool in my lap, not just when we interacted but when he acted, period. he was a sharp deviation from any friendship i'd yet forged, and just quirky enough to keep me interested till we developed into what we are now, which runs itself. a separate entity, he says. he's brilliant. there are a lot of things i couldn't do justice if i tried. i don't have the words. as notoriously verbose as i am, when i get in his presence my vocab double-clutches; i know what i feel but i don't know how to say it. that happens to me most of the time, speaking out loud. here, it's happening on paper. can't help you, sorry. but, if you need guidance--take the most explosive love cliche you've ever heard, and yes, i promise, it applies. only something profound can swing from profoundly enriching to profoundly heartbreaking. things that are just sort of eh, their spectra end on "good" and "bad." when it's good, it's windfall good; favorable bank error good; first paycheck of the summer good. when it's bad, no, things aren't green and sparkling, but there's still the account, the name on the paper, the single pillar of self, and the promise of growth. yes, aaron, you'd like him. a lot, in fact. he'd keep your interest interminably, and you his, and that is no small feat for either one of you. he would teach you everything you'd want to learn on the guitar, and you would listen and love it, and he'd love that--you'd thrive on the dynamic that twanged from those strings. you'd talk about girls in a way that most young guys don't, you'd show him that email and he'd tell you exactly what to do, you'd be grateful to have each other, if briefly, because talking with girls about girls can be helpful, but lacks the objectivity that you'd get from one another. he'd find you hysterical, and laugh nonstop. you'd agree that i was cool. that would make me happy. we had a looooooong but productive talk last night, and made a going-forward plan that everyone can live with. that's how we do things. we don't stay mad forever, and it's okay for a heart to hurt sometimes, because it's only my heart, and it really only matters that his stays intact. things are fine, as always. hakuna matata. |