It's Getting Worse

I've seen your face a lot lately.

I mean, I've seen your face everywhere ever since you left but it's been getting worse lately. I don't know why I always do a double take. I know you're not here. You're on the other side of the country, if you're still in the country at all. I guess I just miss you. Even after four years, I miss you. That's probably silly, right? I mean, even if you were within 20-miles of each other, I don't think we should see each other. You're married now and even though you only talked about it that one time you were drunk, you love her. Best just leave things be.

I'm starting to get the hang of living in Provo again. It only took me 3 months, 2 weeks, & 5 days. School's getting easier and I'm starting to feel connected to people again. My depression has started to get under control. Or at least during the daytime. Nights are bad but they've always been for me. You know that, more than most people.

The other day I was talking to this guy I know/semi-trust and we got on the topic of sleeping with your boyfriend/girlfriend. Not sex but just spending the night, you know. He had never done it and I told him it was one of the most enjoyable things a person can experience. I told him at night when both of you are in bed, you're both cuddling, talking, laughing in the darkness. You each steal a kiss or two. And then you both fall asleep, wrapped up in each other. And when you wake up in the middle of the night (like I always do) he still has your arms around you. It's as close to a perfect moment I think I'll ever get. And when you both wake up in the morning, you take your waking slow (like that one Theodore Roethke poem). You both talk and cuddle and laugh and just enjoy the fact that you're in bed with someone you care about. It's wonderful. It's beautiful. And it's something I miss so much it hurts. When I was telling him this, I was remembering you and Sage. I spent the night with you two more than any other guys. Now you're both married. Sage married Jessie, by the way. She was your roommate's (was his name Tristian? The one-armed, half-Japanese, half-hawaiin skater kid) fiance for a while. But something happened in the semester I was in Russia and the following summer and they were together by fall semester. I always hated her. So it goes.

I don't know why I keep writing you these letters. I guess it's just easier to talk to you than some nameless void. I always trusted you and you always listened. I'm slowly becoming aware of my life turning into something I don't recognize. It scares me, more than I'd like to admit. I guess I like writing to you because you made sense in my life. And having sense in my life is a precious commodity nowadays.

I miss you.

Love you.
Mean it.