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razor blades. Razor. Blades. Razor Blades.

April 20, 2015

I need to clear the air with MTIA once and for all. I have to tell him I will always love him, and I have to ask if I’m another notch on the bedpost, or if our friendship is as unique to him as is it to me.

TLTL is married. MARRIED.

TLTL is married?

Not sure how that happened, but it explains why he’s not been in touch since January. A friend and I chuckled at this, I’m not proud to say, but I can honestly and proudly say that I wish him the best.

But with MTIA, it’s different. This last go around on the town with him resulted in us getting slammed; then him trying to have a serious conversation with me about me, him, and the unspoken us; finally he fell asleep on his couch with his head in my lap.

No conversation was ever had, and even though I say it has to happen, it likely never will.

He’s the Heathcliff to my incredibly campy and annoying Katherine Linton… and so it would seem that I find myself to be campy and annoying. Yeah, pretty much, that’s accurate. My heart aches absolutely every single goddamn time I see him. And still I say that everything is okay. We’re all okay.

I keep having the paranoid delusion that my family is monitoring my sanity and/or drug addiction. I’ve been pretty sick for a few weeks, and I wonder if I haven’t said or done a few things in a haze of fever or narcotics that would warrant such monitoring. I mean, there’s always the title of this post as striking evidence that there’s still some room for deep concern from family. Maybe it was when I tried to give BigDog and SmallDog away to family members.

I’m listening to a version of one of the songs I recorded where I can distinctly hear the sound of TLTL’s text message ringtone chirp in the background. I refused to edit it out.

Suddenly, as I think back to all I’ve written, musically or otherwise, I’m taken back to memories of people with whom I’ve left pieces of my heart over time:

TLTL, and MTIA, of course, but also, TAC, the most human individual i’ve ever met for all of his misanthropy. He hasn’t spoken to me in over a year now, I believe, and I never know what to say in order to try and reach out to him. Without him, I’d be nothing of who I am and love now.

And without any of that with TAC, I wouldn’t currently be giving Fast Car 99% of my trust (which is about 60% more than I give most people with whom I make some sort of contact and about 30% more than I give to people with whom I form some sort of actual emotional bond).

There are things I cannot share with Fast Car yet. Maybe in time, but not yet. And there are things about Fast Car that I cannot share yet, because things are the way they ought to be with us: personal, private. He has the most beautiful lisp I’ve ever heard, in case I’ve never mentioned this, and not the kind that’s an affectation of any sorts… it’s an adorable, “I-spent-five-not-entirely successful-years-in-speech-therapy,” kind of lisp.

Which is apparently my thing. I only date guys with lisps anymore.

But that’s all I want to say. I still can’t say, “I love you,” to him. I can say, “I opposite of loathe you, boyfriend,” for which I get a sweet smile and an “I opposite of loathe you, too, baby,” and a playful peck on the cheek or the forehead.

He’s stuck with me through this most recent round of seemingly incessant sickness, though, let me cry away my frustration on his shoulder. He’s a very caring, un-loathing sort of fellow, he is! I trust him as much as I possibly can.

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