So it was one of those weeks, those weeks when the best thing that happened to you was that you got $200 in food stamps, expedited. Damn, you think. I didn’t even know I was that poor! Those weeks when certain oral surgery, riding six buses to get to one job interview, failing your road test for a second time (despite praying for a license so employment is possible), and just generally coming to the realization that you no longer are capable of seeing beauty in the world just kinda start to get to you. But, man, getting $200 in food stamps—expedited!
So there's a very good friend of mine I've known for years. He lives halfway across the country, but he's from my state, so I see him on breaks. We've become quite close this year, and I've had a pretty big crush on him for months. He's just such a good guy and good friend, and we have so many common interests--I finally feel ready to date someone like him, someone extraordinary, with chemistry, but at the same time a stable, good person. I'm so glad I've reached this point.
I just don't know about life sometimes.
I was closeted last year, for the first time in five years. I was abroad in one of the most conservative and traditional cities in India. I told myself, I won't let my queerness stop me from going and seeing what I will! I refuse to be limited!
So I'm in a foreign language intensive this summer, taking scads and scads of elementary Hindi. All of my Hindi-class friends have left for the weekend, so I'm a bit at loose ends. Saturday night I go over to my distant cousin's house for dinner with his family. A cute family night on the whole. I get back to my coop and there are people on the porch. My next door neighbor--Dalia--has invited some of her friends over. There's a guy sitting on a couch on the other end of the porch who launches into a graphic story about masturbation.
I think I shouldn't miss you, given how you treated me, given how you tried so hard not to miss me, that you can't even admit you were attached--and maybe have extricated yourself as quickly... It's not worth it to miss you. When will you change? Do I even respect myself?
Her: drinks every night, drunk a couple times a week. The walls are thin in her dorm (I don't have a single) and her next-door neighbor goes to sleep at 10 and yells at us for singing Closer to Fine after hours. She makes her home in the mountains of Kashmir, India, in a Buddhist nunnery, where it is -50 degrees Farenheit during the winter, and the roads are closed seven months of the year. (Although of course you could risk your life fording the frozen river in the winter.) During the summer, it's only a four-day hike up to 12,000 feet from base camp, and a week's acclimation time.
Background: So I decided to see what would happen if I stopped calling my best friend of fifteen years. He never called me back. He was sick and dying for many of those years and our friendship, and now that he's better and I moved to college (only two hours away) he doesn't have time for me.
Death comes at you when you least expect it, flies in your face like a baseball in gym class, you looking the other way like always. Death settles in fast in the bottom of the bottomless pit that is your gut, settles and sits like cement, waiting, waiting, to dry.
I am lost and I don't know what to do. My life, if it ever was together, is falling apart. I lost my best friend of fifteen years because he's obsessed with his girlfriend and can't be bothered to keep in touch. I'm trying to move on from the horrors of my first-year drama and friends, but it's hard to make new friends all at once and I'm shy about getting close to people.
My ex-girlfriend walked into the dining hall this morning, walked into brunch with a girl at her side.
Her one and only best friend is in Mongolia, so it's not like this girl is a friend. As far as I can tell.
I think I'm gonna leave college, go take time off. This year has ended on such a shit note with such few real friends, and the rest of the year wasn't really bubbly. It's not like I've found a girlfriend that's normal, no, I've only maybe had three crushes since I've been here, and maybe one of those could have turned to love.
I thought college would be a bastion of spirited intellectualism, that there would be so many more people like me, that I would love my classes. There would be vibrant lectures and debates, I would think deeply about hard issues every day, I would go to art shows and concerts and plays, I would play music, write music, sing music, become a poet.
So I know I like women. Some women. Haven't met one right one yet, or anything. I don't even like stereotypical beauty, but I have liked women for a long, long time.
I said goodbye in a gaze thirty-seven degrees away from your eyes on my sockets;
In short words in short sentences:
“We’ll chill, it’ll be cool.”
(my hands dove in my pockets as if it were your cheekbones they were holding)
words full of curdled nectar, fermentation of old pumping blood.
You ironed on a smile that
Saw in my lips those vines you wound about my heart.