i wonder if you still keep tabs of where your website traffic comes from. aka i wonder if you’ll see someone from Davis, CA visited your website today and know it was me, just checking up on you. i wonder if you’re freaking out about COVID-19. you were always really sensitive when it came to health issues, and i genuinely hope you’re okay and safe and healthy and fareing well.
i browsed through the gallery of your baby photos while listening to “wild child” by Enya and my heart lurched. your creativity, artistic talent, and humor actually even made me miss you a little, but it also reminded me of how much space you took up in our relationship— you wanted me to be a part of all of it, and I wanted that, too, until it began to feel like a chore. forced. i couldn’t always keep up with you, and you resented me for it. sometimes i felt like i was just a pawn or a doll in your life. like it was YOUR relationship and i wasn’t doing what you wanted. And I resented you for that. i wonder how it’s possible for love to exist without resentment. i wonder if I’m capable of it.
those baby photos, though. your eyes, that mischievous grin… it brought me back to your face when we met. the first time you spoke to me in the bathroom after we showered at your parents house and i cried because it seemed magical somehow, to hear your voice.
im falling in love with nostalgia. listening to romantic music like Enya doesn’t help. she’s your wingwoman.
but that was the thing with you. you wanted everything to be so meaningful, all the time. romantic all the time. sometimes i just wanted to shower alone, you know? sometimes you felt like a small child clinging onto my arm in a department store for fear of getting lost. sometimes i felt like i couldn’t shake you. even after we broke up, it took me a while to regain my shape, to rebecome who I was before, to pick up where I left off as a sole entity.
I did love you, in a way, wild child. but I’m not sure how much of it was love and how much was adrenaline, handcuffs, and the innocent romantic fantasies of my naivety.
i miss you a lot right now because i feel on the opposite end of the spectrum. all i want is for him to want to shower with me sometimes, to want to cuddle and talk about dreams, the subconscious, other planes and realms and realities, mysticism… i both loved and hated that you clung to me, that you needed me like air, like water. it was both suffocating and nourishment to my ego. his feet are so rooted in this plane and sometimes i feel him holding me in one place and i feel suffocated, too.
can love exist without death? can two people love each other monogamously and not kill (parts of) each other?