Sunday, February 22, 2009
Lostmissing is a public art project -- I’d love it if you’d participate.
And here's what lostmissing #12 says:
One day we have a friendship of 16 years a relationship a commitment a dream a hug a conversation, and the next day it’s gone. Your commitment, your dream, your hug your conversation.
Or maybe it’s not gone; you just won’t call me back. I want to call you, but I’m not sure whether I want to talk to you. I want to call you, just so you’ll say: I don’t want to talk to you. And then I can say: how dare you talk to me like that?
Maybe one of the things that scared you was that I said you were the most important person in my life, not just that I was still angry for those five years when you lied about everything but because I told you what you meant to me. Probably what I meant to you too and maybe that made it scarier. I still wake up and think of things to say when I finally see you, I want you to know how I’m feeling or at least the anger part. Probably you know the rest.
I wonder if I’ve let go too easily, moved all my sadness and overwhelm into this project which actually gives me hope, this project of writing to you but not to you, writing to the world and with the world and in the world and all over the world. Maybe that’s what it means for me not to give up. It’s like all of these gestures can hold me in the way that you won’t. But I keep thinking about you.
I wonder what you’re thinking now. I wonder what you would think if you read this, if that would change what you’re thinking now. I wonder if this change would make a difference, a difference in the way you’re thinking. I wonder if you care.
I know you care about what you’re thinking. I wonder if you care too much about what you’re thinking, and not enough about -- okay, I might as well just say it: I wonder if you’re thinking about me. If I want you to think about me. What I want you to think about me.
What you want. It always comes back there. I wonder how to get away, to get away from what you want. Maybe we need a confrontation. A confrontation you don’t want. Maybe I’ll call you right now, I’ll call you right now and see what you’re thinking.