I expected neither of them to come back. Their coming back only cemented the statistic that they always return at one point. Except for one. And sometimes I wonder what we would have become, have tried, have gained, and have lost if that one returned, even if it was only for a while. Why do they always come back? Do I look that welcoming to them? I guess that says a lot about me, something that I’m reluctant to admit.
In February, he came back and we spent the night a la Before Sunrise. When it happened, of course I didn’t know that we were living a Linklater. It’s when he disappeared without a trace my hands started to look for him. Shame, embarrassment, disappointment, hope were only some of the things I was feeling as I looked for him. I thought of a hundred ways I could go through just to obtain an answer. I finally chose one and I called him. He hung up. Well, this is it then. No answer is an answer, I get it.
Recently, another one has risen from the dead. We had our brief catch up, something I didn’t expect considering his situation. I don’t want to think too far ahead, but I can’t help imagining it. Explaining what I feel for him is a conundrum unto itself. There’s a thousand reasons I can tell you why I feel this way for you, but at the same time, those thousand of reasons won’t do it justice, because what I’m feeling is more. And I feel like shaking myself hard, yelling, “Open your fucking eyes! Let it go already!” Because there has been no news until today. I was foolish to think I could handle it with a nonchalance. Well, I haven’t been overly emotional until today, so that’s a start.
Since the situation calls for it, I’ve dug up an old playlist I created when I thought of you. I’ve been listening to it over and over again the past few days. By the time I get bored of that one particular song, I hope I’ll also get bored of you.
Are you gonna hide? Are you gonna burn? Are you gonna answer me? Let me take your heart, love you in the dark. No one has to see. I want more. I want more. I want more. I want more. You seek yourself in another way. I try my best but I don’t ever change. I love to watch your body lie. It makes me feel better, makes me satisfied. You could bring it back. Who wouldn’t want it when he looks like that? I want you to stay. And if I try my hardest, would you look my way? I want to leave this curse. I don’t want to feel worse.
– “Memo” by Years and Years
They say you write best when you write about something you’re ashamed of. And this is my deciding not to put this post on private.