why
once i really loved someone.
i really loved someone, once.
the kind of way that makes you think all those other times you loved all those other someones were just practice.
and we had this crazy intense mixed up sad relationship punctuated here and there by moments of such beauty. he was depressive and a borderline alcoholic. and we could never click together and we could never let go so we spent our time in this weird polarized relationship riding rollercoasters into the ocean.
and i've written a lot about how much it hurt.
there are whole other blogs out there devoted to my epic descriptions of how much it hurt.
but i haven't written too much about the good part. 'cause before all that we were just coworkers, and then friends. and he liked to show off on his skateboard and make me cd's and take me to rock shows. he knew the best venues and of course the best bars and everywhere we went he knew people, it seemed like. "this is my friend amy" he would say to them and something about him saying that made me feel like i belonged in the world. i didn't really think too much of myself back then but he told me i was creative and amazing and beautiful. if i was ever sad he would say let's go for a walk and we'd just walk around for hours some sunny days. and he'd pick flowers and hand them to me, or put quarters on the train tracks and hand them to me flattened. and it was innocent.
he went through this funny clumsy phase where he would fall down a lot. like he'd just fall off a curb and be sprawled out in the street and i'd try hard not to laugh. once we were walking down by aquatic park in berkeley and he was looking off to the side across the street at something and i saw it coming but it was too late and he walked straight and fast and hard right into a street sign. i mean, he ricocheted off that sign. and i didn't laugh and he shook himself a little and i didn't laugh and we started walking again and he was rubbing his chest and i didn't laugh and then he said all cool and serious like maybe i didn't notice..."i almost ran into that sign." and then i laughed my ass off.
every time i moved he helped me. when i moved into laguna he spent two days at our house with his power tools spread out everywhere, building and installing soundboard inserts that would cover the sliding pocket doors separating my room from my roommate's.
when i protested the war and got arrested he waited at the jail until 2.30 in the morning to take me home. all evening and night he was there, outside, waiting for me and it kept me sane and he slept on my couch that night.
when jas & i broke up he was there and i hadn't even talked to him in so long because i was mad at him but he answered the phone and i was crying and he just came to pick me up. and drove me around to places that would cheer me up. he always loved to show me his favorite secret places.
and i feel like i am writing about someone who died.
because then we went out and it was a disaster.
because some things you can't un-say. can't un-know.
the very first night he spent in my bed i promised him we would stay friends like we were no matter what and some small part of me knew you can't promise a thing like that but the rest of me wanted him so badly and made the small part shut up. so i promised him and then we kissed each other like a miracle.
he told me a hundred times that it wouldn't work because he was sad and fucked up and incapable of what i wanted and i refused to hear him. but he was right. and when he said it wouldn't be worth it, he was right about that too.
it wasn't worth it. because now he doesn't answer my phone calls. and i understand why. today he wrote to me that he's not giving up on anything, but i know it's never gonna be the same.
after such a long long time of feeling the loss of a love, today i felt sharp and deep the loss of a friendship. when i say now that i miss david it isn't the recent past i mean. it's random adventures and music and all our plans to start a punk band called cesarean breakfast, or make a film where dressed-up pieces of silverware get flattened on railroad tracks, or get a street vendor cart and sell sushi burritos.
i wish so hard that i could just go back to how it was before.
i wish i could have understood that it was already more than enough.
i really loved someone, once.
the kind of way that makes you think all those other times you loved all those other someones were just practice.
and we had this crazy intense mixed up sad relationship punctuated here and there by moments of such beauty. he was depressive and a borderline alcoholic. and we could never click together and we could never let go so we spent our time in this weird polarized relationship riding rollercoasters into the ocean.
and i've written a lot about how much it hurt.
there are whole other blogs out there devoted to my epic descriptions of how much it hurt.
but i haven't written too much about the good part. 'cause before all that we were just coworkers, and then friends. and he liked to show off on his skateboard and make me cd's and take me to rock shows. he knew the best venues and of course the best bars and everywhere we went he knew people, it seemed like. "this is my friend amy" he would say to them and something about him saying that made me feel like i belonged in the world. i didn't really think too much of myself back then but he told me i was creative and amazing and beautiful. if i was ever sad he would say let's go for a walk and we'd just walk around for hours some sunny days. and he'd pick flowers and hand them to me, or put quarters on the train tracks and hand them to me flattened. and it was innocent.
he went through this funny clumsy phase where he would fall down a lot. like he'd just fall off a curb and be sprawled out in the street and i'd try hard not to laugh. once we were walking down by aquatic park in berkeley and he was looking off to the side across the street at something and i saw it coming but it was too late and he walked straight and fast and hard right into a street sign. i mean, he ricocheted off that sign. and i didn't laugh and he shook himself a little and i didn't laugh and we started walking again and he was rubbing his chest and i didn't laugh and then he said all cool and serious like maybe i didn't notice..."i almost ran into that sign." and then i laughed my ass off.
every time i moved he helped me. when i moved into laguna he spent two days at our house with his power tools spread out everywhere, building and installing soundboard inserts that would cover the sliding pocket doors separating my room from my roommate's.
when i protested the war and got arrested he waited at the jail until 2.30 in the morning to take me home. all evening and night he was there, outside, waiting for me and it kept me sane and he slept on my couch that night.
when jas & i broke up he was there and i hadn't even talked to him in so long because i was mad at him but he answered the phone and i was crying and he just came to pick me up. and drove me around to places that would cheer me up. he always loved to show me his favorite secret places.
and i feel like i am writing about someone who died.
because then we went out and it was a disaster.
because some things you can't un-say. can't un-know.
the very first night he spent in my bed i promised him we would stay friends like we were no matter what and some small part of me knew you can't promise a thing like that but the rest of me wanted him so badly and made the small part shut up. so i promised him and then we kissed each other like a miracle.
he told me a hundred times that it wouldn't work because he was sad and fucked up and incapable of what i wanted and i refused to hear him. but he was right. and when he said it wouldn't be worth it, he was right about that too.
it wasn't worth it. because now he doesn't answer my phone calls. and i understand why. today he wrote to me that he's not giving up on anything, but i know it's never gonna be the same.
after such a long long time of feeling the loss of a love, today i felt sharp and deep the loss of a friendship. when i say now that i miss david it isn't the recent past i mean. it's random adventures and music and all our plans to start a punk band called cesarean breakfast, or make a film where dressed-up pieces of silverware get flattened on railroad tracks, or get a street vendor cart and sell sushi burritos.
i wish so hard that i could just go back to how it was before.
i wish i could have understood that it was already more than enough.
posted by amy at 6:23 PM
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