Sunday, August 31, 2008

the end of summer

I was looking at Diego last night while dancing with him, smiling a lot, really happy about this person in my life, him so beautiful. We went into the bathroom together. We started to kiss and I was in the midst of intense affection for Diego. I am not sure what brought on his comment, the discussion. It seemed to have just occurred. He made a comment about how much he likes me, likes me in a way that he wasn't sure I understood, and that he felt that I didn't feel similarly. This was all calm, all matter of fact, and he continued, saying he knew that he wasn't it for me, that he wasn't Gabriel, that the two of us are not the same, and that I should go after Gabriel.

This set me back, pulled me down from whatever cloud I was on that night, and forced me to have a conversation about these things. The conversation was especially troubling for Gabriel's entrance into it. This was a subject I didn't really discuss with Diego, obviously, and yet for him to pick up on it, to tell me things, to tell me that I was meant to be with the boy who I had thought the same thing about, thought the same thing about for a couple years or so, and who finally, just recently, I have given up liking after realizing what a futile and harmful waste of energy it was - that was distressing. The music was very loud at this bar and I had to strain my ear to his mouth to hear all of this and the entire thing made me feel like a mess, like a fuck up. The boy I like telling me that what we have is not it and that I should be with some other boy who doesn't want me - some vague recollections of gym class in this moment, no one wanting me on their team and being pushed off on to the other team that didn't want me.

I agreed with him, that it wasn't it, both of us knowing that, "it" a place marker for everything we couldn't say and didn't know how to, an admission of language's limitations, instead using this unspecified "it" to conjure those things at language's edges, ideas of love and emotion just outside of our ability to describe them, that "it" feeling. We both knew. And so saying these things to each other, I asked him what he wanted, what his goal was in saying these things, that now, knowing that this is not it, do we continue to engage in this nice, pleasant relationship, both of us liking each other a great deal, or, forgo that, that by continuing this thing, we may be preventing other moments from being realized with other people, potential its?

He said that he didn't want to end things, but that he didn't know if we should. I didn't know either. He came over, slept in my bed, and left before we had a chance to finish the conversation.

I think that things may end, that that may be best, but about that I am not sure. I am sure about so little these days. I do know that I occasionally get giddy and heartsick about people and that I want those feelings and maybe it's time to be totally free to pursue that. I don't know. I know that I like old rock and roll and that I feel lonely most of the time and that my head and heart are full of dreams. I read books and there are things described and I want those things, that I don't mind this wandering, that one day I'll find the thing I think I am looking for. I heard from an old crush a few days ago. We are supposed to go on a bike ride soon.

No comments:

Post a Comment