Just found something that I wrote several years ago.
“At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.”
-Albert Schweitzer
We haven’t seen each other for thirty-one days. The last words out of her mouth were, “Don’t speak to me, don’t come over anymore and don’t ever call me again.” I spent that weekend, New Years Eve, poisoning myself. I barely made it out. Almost got my throat slit in the darkness, there in hell.
I can’t sleep anymore. I toss and turn, itch and scratch. I don’t have a fever or anything, I just have trouble keeping still.
This time when I talked to her, I think I was drunk. It’s always an accident when you first call. Just like the coincidence that happens when you have the bottle in one hand and the telephone in the other. That was the night I puked all over myself at the bar. I smelled like shit and my clothes were wet from washing them in the sink. My teeth chattered as I walked down Center, looking aimlessly for a phone.
She was drunk as well. We talked for an hour. I slept like a baby that night.
I called her again the next weekend. She wanted to go see her parents. I had a car, and some money to get us to Cali. She was very happy. But we didn’t go.
Then she started calling me. We make plans, we smile, we laugh together. She tells me that she wishes I were closer, that I am too far away. And I think it is a nice thought. But if I were any closer, we would hurt each other.
It’s been twenty-three thousand, eight-hundred and eight hours since we left in anger. We talk more, and yearn more. Will it be different this time?
I am probably too cautious and scared to find the truth of the matter, but at least these days, I can sleep.