Tag Archives: love

jwm.

my best childhood friend died on christmas day. he was a boy, but he was my best friend. my family went to the visitation back home, but i couldn’t be there. i loved him deeply, very strangely, and first. sometimes i even thought that when we grew up, when we were older, in high school maybe, we’d date. i remember a time when he was the most important person in my world. by high school we’d drifted apart of course, and barely spoke.

still. his death has broken me in a way i can’t describe to my family, or friends, or boyfriend, or anyone. only he would know the things we shared as kids that we promised would stay important forever. the things that didn’t.

i miss his existence.

that’s really the most i can say.

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standards.

i’m this close to starting a “lists” category on my blog. for this list, or “new boy resolutions”, or in your wildest jesslyn dreams. this list came to thirty. i may need to lower my standards.

1. he’ll adore me and i’ll adore him, but sometimes we’ll probably have sex with other people.
2. he’ll have a car.
3. he’ll have a dope job. not to be confused with a job selling dope. not that i’ll care what he’ll do for a living. anyway.
4. he’ll have a loft condo.
5. he’ll only ask me over on weeknights.
6. he’ll be so into sports he won’t even know i’m there.
7. he’ll only watch movies that i want to watch, when i’m around.
8. he’ll force-feed me fruits & vegetables. especially when i complain about it.
9. he’ll call me for girlfriend stuff, but also for sex. except he’ll text me because i don’t like phone calls.
10. he’ll still do all the non-boyfriend stuff in bed.
11. he’ll drive me to work in the morning and stop at starbucks on the way.
12. he’ll wear ties & smoke cigarettes.
13. he’ll never take me shopping, ever, ever.
14. he’ll wine & dine me, but only at home.
15. he’ll listen to all my girl whining & we’ll both pretend he’s really listening.
16. he’ll be tall, but only to me.
17. he’ll like my pet fish and not mind that i have mild fits of insanity because he’ll get that it’s not his problem.
18. he’ll be quiet.
19. he’ll ignore my texts.
20. he’ll eventually not ignore me, but there will be the unspoken promise that he will again.
21. he’ll leave me alone when i want to be left alone.
22. he’ll call someone else if i can’t cater to him tonight.
23. he’ll have the most comfortable clean blankets that will always smell like laundry. except he won’t, because he’ll be kind of gross.
24. he’ll have a sweet collection of badass shoes.
25. he’ll be totally badass. totally.
26. he’ll get drunk in bed with me and listen to music.
27. he’ll only see me in black lingerie & we’ll pretend it’s the only underwear i own.
28. he’ll be apolitical or at least not care.
29. he’ll have fantastic. fucking. hair.
30. he’ll be completely in control & so will i.

it’ll be fucking awesome.
i’m pretty sure it’s called true love.

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leaves.

the grass is a yard now,
is shaping itself by the boards
of the fence

you pick from the garden
each morning: vegetables, weeds;
you handle the stale clumps of dirt

while i watch

a sky flattens
leaves to old earth, with loving
hands raking the season

and we are awake in his bed
still counting the face of the clock

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it rains.

it rains,
i look into your window

cold rhythm of hands gracing
pavement, advantages
taken of awnings

an umbrella not here
since the summer
kneels for a tree
you once kissed me beneath,

the storm lends its fears
to the rooftops. i bite off the
nails on my fingers,
drag the points
of my hands through the mud

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living.

i’m not sure whether or not i planned to come to the cemetery, but i should have worn jeans instead of shorts. i brought a coffee. and my phone, just in case. when i come here i always sit with you because you are the only person i know here. the last time i came you were alone.

i can see a train passing by along the cut through the escarpment. it makes me think of that alice munro story, where rose, i think, takes that train and looks out over our sleepy valley town as she is touched (or not) by that strange man. i wonder if she can see me; then i realize that she can’t, not because she is fictitious, but because that was a freight train.

i spent a few minutes talking to you, even though i never really knew you. i’ve talked to you more since you’ve been here than i did when you were alive, because you were so intimidating to me. i told you some jokes, or tried to. i’m so bad at jokes.

i’ll never forget the first time i came here. how we found your grave in the dark, how we searched and searched the rows. then there was a joke about “brown hair tester” and i turned around laughing and there you were. and the light; it was like you led us right here. and then no more laughing, which doesn’t seem right either. and then the bad thing happened and we left and i didn’t come back for a long time. and i had all those nightmares.

you were twenty – no, almost twenty. it was just your birthday. you’d be twenty-eight. on your birthday i was writing a love letter, like an idiot. love takes everything away, because nobody wants to lose anything. nobody wants to sacrifice anything. i’m sure that everyone who loved you has no regret.

it feels very strange to be alive in a cemetery. your cemetery, where you are. this used to be a place to drink, to smoke weed, to trip on shrooms. to do chemical drugs and sleep on the grass as the sun came up. to shortcut home after school, to take the long way around for pickles. i like it a lot better the way it is now. a place to visit you, and to tell you bad jokes and anecdotes. and drink coffee. and be alive, no matter how strange that feels.

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get them back.

when i was fifteen years old some friends of mine started spreading some unfortunate stories about me around my high school. i had some crazy stuff happen to me after that, as high school is naturally a cruel environment and the people there (often by no fault of their own) tend to succumb easily into the trap. i’ve always maintained that it’s easiest to be cruel and unkind in high school because there isn’t much else going on. you wake up, go meet your friends, gossip, try and be liked, go home, watch tv or play after-school football, do your homework and go to sleep.

i had too much going on outside of school to give a damn about what people had to say about me while i was there. life when i was fifteen wasn’t easy, and it had nothing to do with that little p-side world. when i came home, my homework was typically the least of my concerns. and i was okay with that. in fact, i didn’t even give it much thought at the time. when you’re forced to deal with something bigger than yourself, you push through it without recognizing it. it isn’t until later that you look back and see what you achieved.

the point is that when all the craziness was going down in my sad little high school, there were four or five people i was able to turn to. people who didn’t hear the stories about me because they didn’t spend much of their time in class or the cafeteria. people who wouldn’t have cared even if they had heard the stories. people who learned to love me, despite how terrible i could be to them (and them to me) at times. the kind of love that is built in high school, blended with loyalty and certainty that will probably be intact until the end of time, whether or not you know it or believe it.

as much as i loved them, i lost them all when my four years ended in 2003. i kept in touch for about a year and then i moved on. i had little choice. things happen. they were always there though. and so was i, waiting, just in case. if they had called i would have answered. sometimes i even believed that they’d do the same.

and now, six years later, baby steps are being made. i don’t want to attribute this entirely to facebook and twitter, but what can i say. messages and comments and likes. whatever. it is what it is! and i love how in the end, after everything, after what’s happened over the past ten years of my life, it comes down to the same people it did in the beginning.

i know that this is rare and i’m lucky. i know that things don’t always come full circle, not for everyone. sometimes people lose their best friend, someone they’ve known since the first grade, and they never get them back. they don’t even get the chance for baby steps. i never really considered it. i left things as they were. but now that i see there’s a chance, i’m taking it. i can’t afford to pass it up. i know what i’d be losing.

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