last night at harvard
boyfriend's gone. cue the bright eyes soundtrack. dropped seven dollars on the biggest, most chocolate ice cream that herrell's offers. and now it's time to pack it up and pack it in. back to my secret maine life. better begin the to do list now. and just so you know, i like him like him a lot a lot because when we were having our fresh fruit picnic in cambridge commons he asked two people if they needed help carrying their things, even though he was diagnosed with mononucleosis yesterday, and he is a vegetarian because he wants to boycott the unnecessary suffering created by the slaughter of animals for food and because the same amount of land dedicated to raising animals could produce more food by growing green things, so he is making an effort to end world hunger. he is so smart. and handsome. he was cheerful even after we walked around the north end for half an hour looking for a restaurant and then we went to one catering to the "executive sex" clientele: all red light bulbs and more atmosphere than food. he cried during a very long engagement, not at the end but when mathile receives the news that manech had died and visits his grave. he said he would hold my hand when i shave my head. and his mom and sister are totally wacky and lovable but i could never stay at their pace. he is "that cute atheist who is taking me to hell with him", and who i have conversations like
"i feel like there are so many things i could say, but i've already said them all."
"i feel like there is something i'm supposed to say, but i don't know what it is."
"i think i already know."
"yeah."
"it's, 'ethan, i have hiv,' right?"
he makes rad mix cds even if they are always scratched, and he writes exceptional liner notes/letters. he wears clever t-shirts. he makes laugh unlike anyone else here, in the words of frank. now he's gone, and i'm going too. i wish i could remember everything forever.
"i feel like there are so many things i could say, but i've already said them all."
"i feel like there is something i'm supposed to say, but i don't know what it is."
"i think i already know."
"yeah."
"it's, 'ethan, i have hiv,' right?"
he makes rad mix cds even if they are always scratched, and he writes exceptional liner notes/letters. he wears clever t-shirts. he makes laugh unlike anyone else here, in the words of frank. now he's gone, and i'm going too. i wish i could remember everything forever.