DRUNK!!!
I wish I knew. I wish I knew where we are and where we are going. I hate not knowing. I hate how polite you are being. Don't you know that being polite is just a nice way to say 'lying'? I'd rather that you hurt me honestly; it's more direct, more courteous, because to be truly honest in a matter such as this is to show true respect, true love for the other person. And if you can find it in yourself to be honest, to hurt me, then it will heal that much faster knowing that somewhere deep inside you do love me. I mean is it truly better to live one's life in ignorance? Is bliss worth the price of not furthering ones self? I find you irresistible. I have cherished you since August of 1999. I remember walking into that beige cinder block room, looking around and seeing those blue/green eyes... those eyes... you were the only inviting face in the room, with a smile that blinds me still today. If one second of gazing at that smile, peering into those eyes, a moment to look at that face, to hear that laugh, to absorb that angelic voice costs me my life, my soul, my skill with pen and paper, then I gladly sacrifice it all, for I do not want to know life without having at least experienced all that you are. I do not know how much more of this that I can take, and if there is one thing that time proves again and again it is that even diamonds will turn to dust. You have no idea how close I have come to grabbing an axe and striking at the locks of the floodgates myself, how close I've come to doing something incredibly stupid in the hopes of gaining your attention. I wish that you could see just how absolutely amazing you are. Then maybe, just maybe you could begin to see just how it is you tug at my every heartstring, just how one look can make me melt, that angel's exist.
I think of all this and wonder what your plans for me are. You neither encourage nor discourage. I wonder if you hope to string me along until your return. I wonder if that is why I see such fear in your eyes. I wonder if maybe that fear is not of me, but of yourself, a fear of letting someone back in; a fear of the thing that you seem to desire the most, getting close. I know what that is like, how you shudder with desire and quake with fear all at the same time, I know the confusion you feel and now I ask to ease that uneasiness of being, I ask to aid in extinguishing that trepidation of being unaccompanied. That is one thing that you and I seem to have in common, the utter despair of climbing to slumber alone. Wrapping your self in layer upon layer, you not only physically shut me out, but you shut yourself away emotionally. I wonder if you are looking out at the night sky with me hoping that tomorrow those thick comforters, the warm quilts, and cozy blankets will not convey the icy cold of being alone. I don’t know what he did to you, I don’t know if it was you who left him, or vice versa. I don't know how he hurt you, or how he disappointed you, or how he frustrated you, but I do know one thing. That I am not him, that it hurts me to see that distant look in your eye; it hurts me that you are afraid of me. I could never hurt you. The kindness you've seen me lavish upon strangers should prove that much. I am at your command, if I should hurt you, I will make it right. Tell me what it is that you want and I will give it to you. Show me what it is you're afraid of, and I will give my life protecting you from it. If you are sick, I would gladly be ill in your place; if you are in pain I will be there to take it away. I have waited six years for one chance, and I will wait sixty more if that is what it takes.
I think of all this and wonder what your plans for me are. You neither encourage nor discourage. I wonder if you hope to string me along until your return. I wonder if that is why I see such fear in your eyes. I wonder if maybe that fear is not of me, but of yourself, a fear of letting someone back in; a fear of the thing that you seem to desire the most, getting close. I know what that is like, how you shudder with desire and quake with fear all at the same time, I know the confusion you feel and now I ask to ease that uneasiness of being, I ask to aid in extinguishing that trepidation of being unaccompanied. That is one thing that you and I seem to have in common, the utter despair of climbing to slumber alone. Wrapping your self in layer upon layer, you not only physically shut me out, but you shut yourself away emotionally. I wonder if you are looking out at the night sky with me hoping that tomorrow those thick comforters, the warm quilts, and cozy blankets will not convey the icy cold of being alone. I don’t know what he did to you, I don’t know if it was you who left him, or vice versa. I don't know how he hurt you, or how he disappointed you, or how he frustrated you, but I do know one thing. That I am not him, that it hurts me to see that distant look in your eye; it hurts me that you are afraid of me. I could never hurt you. The kindness you've seen me lavish upon strangers should prove that much. I am at your command, if I should hurt you, I will make it right. Tell me what it is that you want and I will give it to you. Show me what it is you're afraid of, and I will give my life protecting you from it. If you are sick, I would gladly be ill in your place; if you are in pain I will be there to take it away. I have waited six years for one chance, and I will wait sixty more if that is what it takes.
Alan hit play @ Monday, January 01, 1990
