he told me something happened to her. something bad. something that gives rise to intimacy issues, something that turns helpless little girls into helpless little women. i care about her, and of course i asked what it was. he told me that since she'd not told me, he probably shouldn't either. normally i would have pressed the issue, and he would have told me, but i stopped, and i said no.

she's not helpless, but i saw the look on her face at that scene. of course i assume the worst, because he told me just enough. just enough.

she doesn't know, i don't think. i mean, just what she is to me. i guess she doesn't think anyone could feel that way about her. i guess. she really hates herself sometimes. she doesn't want to get close to anyone. she's afriad, i guess.

i did a tarot reading for her once. i had done it once before but i didn't know what i was doing and i wasn't really serious anyway. but the one that i did for her then was serious, and she freaked. she freaked that i might know something about her.

i miss her a lot. a lot. i wanted nothing this weekend but to be close to her, and we were. we used to be able to sleep in the same bed, but now ... no. she can't. she's getting worse and i worry. i worry.

i'm glad she's not into drugs, or sex, or anything that people get addicted to to take the pain away. like i said, she's not helpless, sure as hell not weak. a man had a friend once who was into drugs, and he worried. he wrote him a letter once. this man was known for surreal lyrics, and maybe it's pointless to post them because you need the music. badly.

look up, what do you see?
all of you and all of me
fluorescent and starry
some of them, they surprise

the bus ride, i went to write this, 4:00 am
this letter
fields of poppies, little pearls
all the boys and all the girls sweet-toothed
each and every one a little scary
i said your name

i wore it like a badge of teenage film stars
hash bars, cherry mash and tinfoil tiaras
dreaming of maria callas
whoever she is
this fame thing, i don't get it
i wrap my hand in plastic to try to look through it
maybelline eyes and girl-as-boy moves
can take you far
this star thing, i don't get it

aluminum, tastes like fear
adrenaline, it pulls us near
i'll take you over
it tastes like fear
i'll take you over

will you live to eighty-three?
will you ever welcome me?
will you show me something that nobody else has seen?
smoke it, drink
here comes the flood
anything to thin the blood
these corrosives do their magic slowly and sweet
phone, eat it, drink
just another chink
cuts and dents, they catch the light
aluminum, the weakest link

i don't want to disappoint you
i'm not here to anoint you
i would lick your feet
but is that the sickest move?
i wear my own crown and sadness and sorrow
and who'd have thought tomorrow could be so strange?
my loss, and here we go again

look up, what do you see?
all of you and all of me
fluorescent and starry
some of them, they surprise

i can't look it in the eyes
seconal, spanish fly, absinthe, kerosene
cherry-flavored neck and collar
i can smell the sorrow on your breath
the sweat, the victory and sorrow
the smell of fear, i got it

i know she's hurting. i'd take it away if i could. if i could just hold her - but no. no, she can't even stand physical contact anymore. so i can't do a fucking thing except be oblivious and ... yeah. shit. i hate feeling like this. i don't even care that i'm not getting what i want, you know, because i really don't know what i want. her, yeah. but what of her? nothing, really. sex? no. a kiss, maybe. one kiss. no tongue or anything though.

friends last longer than lovers. i've known that forever, and i guess it's good since this is all i get.

song: "e-bow the letter" - r.e.m.