adagio
I thought about you last night, praying before I tried to sleep. I don't remember what brought - oh wait. Yes, I do. It was the lack of sleep, the indulgence of old habits; to fantasize some scenario until i fell asleep. But drawing you into the light of my thoughts gave you a spotlight which you're no longer worthy of and by extension, kept me up longer than was necessary.
A Thai restaurant in the Tenderloin.
I'll be honest, I've thought about you a lot over the last decade or so, but i no longer miss you the way I did. Clarity has told me that if I loved you, it was borne of secrecy and sex, not actual emotion and longevity.
You, always behind your computer. Us, in front, several times.
Having said that, I will pray for you whenever you cross my mind, because whatever damage you we did to me doesn't mean that you shouldn't also come to know Christ. I don't hate you or wish you ill. Hindsight has made me sad for you, though there is the trace of fondness when I allow myself to really think about my fondest memories of Yokota. We had those, but they're so entwined with everything that I hate, I don't spend any time on them.
Monsoon weekend, the Thomas Crowne Affair. A reckoning in the deep dark when I realized you were a dragon I could not slay. Your teeth gleamed in the dark as you claimed possession.
I hope you've moved on from childish pursuits. I hope you're happy. I hope you've found salvation.
I still hope you miss me. In the dark, in the shower, in your truck, in the bright dead hills of Yolo County, when someone uses sarcasm and a smile the way I did, when the adore you just this side of believable.
I don't miss you, but praise the Lord, I have forgotten much about you. I hope to continue until you are nothing but the barest footnote in a story. But I know that as long as I continue to share the deepest parts of my testimony, you will appear like a specter whenever I have to peer into that long-covered mirror (bloodymarybloodymarybloodymary).
When I say that I want you to miss me still, I hiss it. I don't mean it kindly and I don't think there is a way to do so. I have not yet reconciled the complicity you had in my downfall, despite the fact that I have rebuilt my city. Maybe I resent you. Maybe I always did, maybe I always will.
Maybe I'll wake up one day and not remember your face.
hashtag believe