I completely confuse me. 5 years ago a night like this would have been softened by a wonderful friend who would have followed or driven me home and spent the night. We either would have put on full metal jacket and passed out together and/or fucked and done the same. either way, whatever I did wrong or meant, it always helped. It would have been natural tonight and welcome, but those days died like so much else and I'm spending the first night alone in a very big house for one guy and two dogs.
I'll sleep on the couch like I have for the last few months. I don't know what else to do.
Everyone seems very human in my grief. I notice that all the observation that would otherwise turn cruel out my lips becomes very sympathetic and understanding. All the differences that stand as novelty or ridiculous in brighter times are blurred and blessed by this sadness and just make me see the isolation and the heartbreak so many are carrying.
Me, too. But some one once loved me well enough to let me love them as poorly as I ever have loved anything. My barbs and scrapes bandaged with the kind of selflessness that puts itself in harms way and takes the pain of loss and scorn with eyes open and willingly. I can only pray to find that one more time or be able to give it. So damn brave. Goddamn, make me brave.
Thanks for every night you quieted me. For every offering and pity fuck. For the peace your body lent me. For the solace those words and those touches gifted me. For the amazing kindnesses I'll never earn and I hope you know how well that language has translated and how well that currency exchanges today.
I only hope the investment isn't a complete loss.