I type the first three letters of yr URL into my search bar, autofill does the rest and lets me to have my sin again. For a split second, a solitary web page and its branches lead me astray. It’s been a year now. I fall back in.
My best friend cried to me last week. He said that he really admires me and to be honest I can’t say anyone has ever directly come out at told me I am a role model to them. My brothers lack the tenacity to say it, but their snide remarks let me know they care. He went on to say that I have given him hope, I’ve shown him what it means to persevere; I’ve shown him human beings are resilient; we let our hearts break to another person’s song and still wake up in the morning, even if it takes the remainder of winters daylight to get out of bed.
"Your winter started before my summer did: it’s been a tough year, man". He was right.
I lost you in mid-may on the second night of my directorial debut, a western entitled “The Redeemers”. I know you remember. That night I purchased one of few packs of cigarettes my paper trail can confirm. That night I wanted to die. That winter I almost did.
You died too. You told me you didn’t, but to me you did. Is someone you can’t talk to not dead? The thought of whom caves yr chest in and replaces down with lead - are they really living? Someone I love has died. Multiple people in fact. This feels the same as losing them, but it will no longer consume me.
Don’t get me wrong, I miss you. But not enough to wish you back.
It’s been a year and I feel no less heartbroken. What I feel now that I didn’t then is hopeful. I’ll meet someone. Someone who gets me, someone who inspires me, someone I inspire, someone who really truly loves me for who I am. Whether that be the grown man who cares more about the preservation of skateboarding than the bones that break more and more each year (My best friend also told me that he admired this about me). Or the part of me that loves animals more than humans. Someone will love me, again. And I will love them, because they will deserve it. They will have been heartbroken before, and they will know how it feels to be used.
I love myself again. and it feels great.
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
I only think of you when I listen to my favorite music
and other things that remind me of you.
I can’t help but think of you every day. I have more written. I might post it someday.