MY STUFF
HER
straddle the thing you despise. just because sooner or later she's going to piss you off; sooner or later she's going to change her mind; sooner or later she's going to leave or make you leave. Which is worse? which is better? i don't really care to find out. i'll try to support your choices, but i can not accept your motives. i will not accept your reasons. i'm not trying to push a "you are wrong- i am right " situation on you, i'm just trying to think of a way to tell you that you are wrong. Believe me i don't want to be right. i want you to be happy, but she is not the way. but i can't tell you that because i can't give you another way to go.
Sept. 12,1996
You love me and yet you don't know me. And I am convinced that if you did one day get an insight into my soul that you would be repelled, horrified, and probably frightened. At the very least your love for me would shrivel and die, or worse yet, you would still feel the love but you would not be able to tolerate my presence. There is a light in you-as if you were somehow blessed with the ability to bring all others to you and through your love heal them. And equal to the light in you, there is a darkness in me. A darkness that if left unchecked, unsupervised threatens to consume my soul and the souls of those around me. You find this a fanciful dream, you doubt my words and you doubt the very existence of the darkness. You feel my pain and seek to shield me from the cause. Yet, you don't realize that in shielding me from the pain you wound me immeasurably. I am a being of concentrated feeling- it is the only substance that I know. I will not lie- I resent you sometimes because you try to protect me; just as you must resent me because I refuse to be protected. But understand, you and I are lovers- not in the physical sense but in the spiritual and the emotional sense, which is perhaps the only true love that I am capable of.
Leaving
" There's something I should tell you," he said. And then he stood blocking out the only ray of light foolish enough to cascade through the darkened window. She lay sleeping unwakened by his nocturnal wandering. He seated himself in the plush red velvet chair beside the window and watched the pitiful light of the early morning caress her beautiful dreaming face, enhance the blonde in her hair, and draw a twisted painting with the smoke from a freshly lit cigarette. " There's something I need to say to you," he whispered. And the words echoed like the sound of a thousand trumpets in the tiny room. Yet, she did not stir. He said," I love you, and I have since we first met." He stopped, boldly staring at her, hoping for some reaction. After a time, she grunted; bringing her right hand with its wondrously painted nails to brush her cheek and then softly return to her stomach. He rose and crossed to the window, turning to watch the shadows darken her features. He spoke and the words rained down like a flash flood in the desert. He talked of his father and the few things he learned from him before life snatched him away, about his boyhood dream of becoming a writer. He talked about suffering and pain. He whispered things that he'd heard about love and hope. He began to dress, never pausing in his narrative. Finally, he glanced at the image of her in the rumpled sheets and said, " You are all I've ever wanted and nothing that I need." And as sunlight burned her eyes like searing fire, as a tear ran down his face, she turned her head and watched him close the door.
