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8:39 p.m. - 2001-04-27 No. Loss is the empty feeling that cuts just below the heart and just above the stomach. No. Loss is something I fear. Loss is something I cannot explain. I lost someone today who I never had in the first place, and trying to explain it to him was like trying to move a wall. He keeps saying he doesn't understand how I could be losing him when it won't be any different than it has been for the last few years, at least that's what I think he's trying to say. I can't be sure, he's really blowing off the subject. It's just that I never really had him. I thought we had something, but I was apparently delusional. I was apparently delusional about various connections that were just mazes back to my own delusional brain. I'm pissed off. I never woke up a damn thing. I never dreamt about anything that was an indication of anything that wasn't a dream. It was ALL a dream. The waking life included. I never got pulled back in by anything that wasn't just me, my subconscious even, always always looking for more fucking drama. We were going to go see him, make everything a little more tangible. He was my connection to a belief. With my logic-lined mind, as much as I hate to admit it, he was going to be the one that held everything together. And I'm not even being entirely thorough. I really cared for him, we both did, I think. He was wild and he was beautiful, he was full of exhilaration at times, he made me smile so that my face would hurt. His words had a taste, I would taste them in my sleep. We were going to fucking go see him! Somebody tell me, truthfully, what that road trip was really for. We were going to be there. I wish I could tell him this, but he'd counter me with logic. He doesn't understand that logic and emotions don't mix; they count in of themselves; one can't be fought with the other. Don't smile at me and skirt it, I want to know what you're feeling. I don't care what you want me to feel, or what you're trying to think, I want to know what you're feeling. That's it. It's all I've ever asked of anyone, ever. I wish I could write this better, but I'm done censoring. I wish I could cry, but I'm done trying. I wish this would go over as a wave of slap-bang complete with the suffocating loss, but I don't want anyone else to know, I mean really know, what it's like. I don't want to know myself what it's like. My teetering belief base and a beautiful friend, their images for the conceivable future, I can't touch it anymore. Maybe after that I would have understood something.
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