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Today is a Lie

November 10, 2014

In my head, today should be the kind of day where my life changes. I start giving zero fucks about anything that doesn’t really matter. I live my life to its fullest until I breathe my last breath. Or something.

But it’s not been that kind of day, because in the wake of finding a friend’s cancer is terminal and then having to finally face MTIA and The CAB, the day feels impossible. Tomorrow I’ll wake up and it will never have happened.

I won’t have noticed that MTIA hugged me for just a second too long, and that I hugged him back for that second, too. I won’t have noticed that The CAB managed, in a room of six people, to entirely ignore my existence. I didn’t look at her when MTIA grabbed me in that hug.

It was just a second too long, that hug, but it was long enough to make the message clear: there’s so much to say, and none of it can be said, not here, not now, and maybe not ever. But I haven’t forgotten you…

None of it will have happened.

I won’t have noticed MTIA push up his sleeves for a moment, long enough for me to notice that he’s covered in scars I’ve never seen before. I won’t have cried myself to sleep. I won’t feel like someone’s sucker punched me every time I think of my friend, and of my friend’s partner, and what they’re now facing together, and when I realize that there is absolutely nothing I can say or do to take their pain and fear away.

I have no right to complain about my own pain. I can probably divorce myself from the pain entirely, but I’m more than a little concerned that doing so might actually finally divorce me from humanity in general, which I’m not trying to do.

I’m immeasurably afraid of tomorrow.

I waved a small goodbye to MTIA, and there was no hug. I could almost read the words he left hanging on his lips, unspoken. “I’m sorry, I need you, I hate you. Welcome home.” I inhaled, turned, and walked away.

So what if MTIA completed me? I didn’t complete him. He never saw it that way, and even now, especially now, the distance between he and I is too great and is immutable. I’m not going to try to close the distance between us again. I know, though, that he’ll email me within a day or two, and I’ll cry again and eventually manage to pretend nothing is wrong. And then I’ll face him in person twice more this week, once in front of an audience.

I can feel myself pulling away from the world again, even though I tried to promise myself I wouldn’t do it.

And FastCar, I’m sorry. I love you, but if you don’t leave now, I’m going to put you through hell, and you deserve more than that. I picked the wrong time to go off my meds, I now realize. I suspect there’s never a good time, though. FastCar, you deserve so much more than I can ever be for you.

Today never happened.

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