Saturday, February 28, 2009
Lostmissing is a public art project -- I’d love it if you’d participate.
And here's what lostmissing #15 says:
I’m sick of thinking about your glassy eyes I’m sick of thinking about calling you in an emergency any emergency and you would always respond. If you could. How you rarely called me in that way except right when you tested positive and then I remember your glassy eyes again. I’m sick of thinking about the way you used to hold me and how safe it felt. I’m sick of thinking of things to tell you, random things like the beautiful clanky messy song I want to dance to right now even when I’m thinking about you and the original it’s covering and you would know the original. I don’t.
I’m sick of thinking about what to say when I run into you, if I run into you, and how I’ll feel crushed and usually I want to express exactly how I’m feeling but then I end up acting like I’m okay even if I’m saying that I’m terrible I don’t want to act like I’m okay but it always ends up happening. I want to go right to the feeling not hold back, especially with you who I’ve trusted for so long for so long I’ve trusted you even in my body with you I could go right to the feeling.
But my anger turns so swiftly to sadness and it’s not the sadness I want to show you. You already know about the sadness. But what makes me sad now is that I don’t think it’ll feel good to express my anger. And maybe you won’t know exactly what it means but you’ll know that I never get angry that way and especially not in public. And maybe when it shoots to my head and I say something like I can’t believe how you’re treating me it’s disgusting, maybe instead of the distance I’ll just feel rage which is a kind of closeness or if the rage crashes fast then at least it’ll happen after you’re out of sight. Or maybe it doesn’t matter whether you’re out of sight. Maybe all that matters is that then I can go right to the sobs that place where my whole body collapses and I know that it’s something that can hold me. I haven’t gone there yet maybe the sobs are the most important thing even if it’s the anger I’m trying to express.