Sunday, June 09, 2013
I see Mike and Tim, two friends from the old era. We all act the same. But we know it's not. Ghosts of what was still linger. I feel awkward, strange.
Speaking does no good. But if it did, I would say, "I'm trying. Really."
That is the blunt truth. But so is this: I'm failing. No denying it. Failing and flailing, working to get to the shore, but I cannot swim.
Friends can only watch. I feel I have let them down. I'm the smart one here. But not smart enough. Not wise enough to listen. I trusted my gut. Betrayed by myself, I now question everything. Trust issues? Maybe. But it is deserved. I'm the one who fucked this up. I don't trust myself.
Quietly, I mourn: the glorious past beauty, and what should have been. Please don't understand. I don't know why I'm in hell. It doesn't matter. It's still goddamned hot, and knowing why this is so doesn't make me cool.
I'd give everything for the chance to make amends. There are no takers.
Sorry, Tim and Mike. It's nothing you guys have done. The world just moved on.