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most of me is a dickbag
2011-06-20 - 1:17 a.m.

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I'm trying to figure out the best way to tell her what I've come to realize the past month, because it has a little to do with her and a little do with everyone else I know.

I think of my father (it is dad's day...) and my brother, and I think of tour and I think of K, and I think of my college friends, and I think of my closest friends, and I think that I've lost something in my capacity to 'miss'.

It's self-centered, I know that. But when people leave, when I leave, I forget. I don't ache, I don't long for anything. I'm wherever I am, for however long I have to be. When I realize I haven't seen my father or brother in 6 months, it strikes me as strange because it didn't feel like that long. When K complains about not seeing me more that once a month, I feel like that's enough.

Taking things for granted, clearly, but then I think of H. I feel it the strongest when I think of her, and what I should feel about a friend that's dead. I feel a light flicker inside of me, I wish I could talk to her again, I wish I could send her a letter and get one back. But there's still the same block. Thoughts like these cross my mind only when I reach for them deliberately. Day to day, I don't think of her. I don't think of K until she texts me, I don't think of my father until something goes wrong in my life. Or until I get one of his stupid e-mail forwards, which is actually way too often.

Tonight I saw Bazan in Cambridge. During it and afterwards I thought of what J said to me once, after we saw Bright Eyes when we were 18. It was something about how it'd been so long since she'd seen me as genuinely happy as when I was watching the band play.

The show tonight was the same. I felt...genuinely happy. I felt that mushy stuff that I've been devoid of for so long, a warmth in the center of my chest, sincere laughs and head bobbing to the faster songs. Afterwards K texted and I thought I'd call her as I walked to the car. On Mass Ave I was lively, quick, but by the time I'd passed the MIT apartments and found my car on a deserted side street, I'd degraded. Something in the conversation dragged me down, maybe hearing that she'd went to her first baseball game in Chicago on her road trip. My birthday present to her was going to be her first baseball game at Fenway this summer. Also another reminder of her uptight-ness. It deflated me.

So we hung up the same way we've hung up for the past few weeks. She's coming home in a few days. I didn't remember which day she was coming back, it upset her. And it should. But I just didn't know. Only that she was coming back sometime after the 20th. Would counting down the days make me a better person? Should I wish she was home so I could hug her, be close to her? Most of me says, 'You can wait'.

earlier - later