frozen

I let it slip that there was one before and that she is now gone. He asks me how it was that she came to leave. And I said she starved herself to death. And I chuckled darkly at his reaction. And we talked about how she was a writer and how because of this I know that I am not a very good one, that I make way too many technical mistakes. I tell him that I left her when she was sick, when the end was coming, in sight, but of undetermined length. That she was ready to go after i left. That she cut the cords on her iv with scissors was how ready she was to go. And I talk about how on that day time stood still and that it still stands still for me. That part of me is still there, at that precise moment in time. Locked in ice. For you see, I tell him, it is not as if part of me left with her – although i am sure some of it did – but rather a good chunk of me has stayed behind in that time. that i’ve lost touch with that person i was then. that this is neither good nor bad, but just is. that from time to time i miss the person i was then. i miss him very much. right now i am missing him. but, then i tell him, just as i sigh, that it isn’t about me now is it.

and he says excuse me? and i say, its about you isn’t it? and he looks confused at me. what am i trying to say, he wants to know. and i tell him it is about him and all his expectations for how the world is supposed to operate and what the definition of normal is. and that if it wasn’t for him, i could be living the bohemian life which is my nature and wander from place to place and stay connected with persons and people and not have to be troubled by his expectations. and he tells me that he barely knows me, really,that we are relatively new friends all and all. and i tell him we are not such new friends. not really, no.