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04.07.03 - 12:41 p.m.

it amazes me, still, how close you can be to people and then, how far away. How absolutely far away. How nothing in the world that you can say will bring tha person back to the place they left and i think this might be the saddest thing that happens. That you can have someone right in your space, in your arms or in the middle of the heart and then, for whatever reason, they take a wrong turn and theyre out of the middle and in its place is a round, uncovered wound, that just has to hurt for however long.

And that some people ease out. And that some people somehow made it right into the middle in a matter of days, and each hurts differently when its gone, but just the same, too.

That day with the old man, for me, was this one huge thing. For him, i dont know, but for me, a thousand full days and nights sewn into a satin pillow and presented, and then, taken. In one day. So much happens to us that is indescribably painful depending on what kind of person you are. For some, that day would have been just a strange, gray day. Something that happened. And i guess in some ways, thats what it was, and afterwards i biked through briars and open streams and then, i swam in a lake that didnt have an exit. I jumped in without thought to how i would remove myself, and i floated in sunshine and warm green and dogwood petals and everything in my head was deep underwater and the beating of my heart which seemed the only thing and it wasnt bad, then, i didnt feel bad, then, but i knew that i had taken one for-sure turn in one for-certain direction, and maybe for the first time in my life.

Since then i havent spoken with him and it seems like the weirdest thing. THE weirdest thing. I was sure that every event incurred an equal and opposite reaction, but in this case, a steel gray stretch of smooth nothing. Just one yawn that has never ended. I keep waiting for something else, and there is just nothing. And i am not in love. And i am not in pain. I am curious how people insert themselves and how easily removed they are. It doesnt seem right. It seems like an error. Few people in my life have acheived what he has, instant access, and he wanted nothing to do with it. And the thing is, it doesnt really matter. Really. I dont think i am injured or anything jerry springer like that. ITs just that, its the first time anything like that has happened. Something impossible and wrong and something that might have been the rightest thing in the world if i was a different person. If i wasnt completely afraid.

And maybe, i had been preparing a place for him all along. Maybe i do that, prepare a day bed for whoever i set my sights on, just in case they want to stay the night. And maybe no one really has ever wanted to stay the night and maybe i have one thousand day beds set up in my soul, empty, sheets stretched smooth and clean from all those who were invited and didnt stay, who left a round wound, still healing.

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