Thursday, September 02, 2010

In the chest

Now I know what they mean when they say it hits you in the chest -- emotion, that is -- because I’m walking out of my apartment into the noontime sun, crossing the street and for a second I think that’s Chris, walking out of the corner store and looking right at me and that’s when my belly pulls up in pain like someone just hit me, really. And I stop breathing, takes me a few moments to stop staring with whatever frightened look is on my face, and now the guy, who doesn’t really look like Chris, is staring at me to figure something out, figure me out, and then we both keep walking.

When will all this clear from my head -- maybe when I see him, and we have some kind of interaction, or maybe just when I move. I need some kind of ritual, a ritual to banish him from my interior -- that’s kind of what Lostmissing was, or is, but I’m not sure if I want to make any more posters. I still want them to go up all over the place, but I don’t think I need to make any more. It’s just that I’m still stuck, stuck in all that fear and pain. So I need another ritual, maybe something I could create in therapy, therapy I don’t have, or something I could smash, like he’s smashed me -- but all of this sounds familiar, not that different from what I was thinking almost two years ago when he stopped talking to me. People say San Francisco is so small, but I haven’t run into him since, unless you count all these people who I keep thinking are him, hitting me in the chest.

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