(no subject)
"I bet its hazy in there" I'll tell him one morning over egg whites and banana. "In where?" He'll ask but only after he finishes staring just slightly left of eye contact. "That head of yours." I smile. "Stop being a bitch." He'll snap bitterly, assuming I'm judging him again. I am judging him (again) so I immeditally change the subject to silence.
My thoughts wander as my eyes follow fresh vaccum tracts to a happy red guitar. "When's the last time you played?" I'll ask thoughtfully. "Shut up." I say it with him this time and I frown as he glares at me hard. "I don't know what you want from me" He'll sigh and I'll tell him "just everything" only this time I'm not being a bitch.
I use to find it tragic that I had never once surprised my boe in all the months of owning a key to his layer. So I walked in on a proud wednesday afternoon and found an apartment litered with tools of destruction and disillusion. I had to stick my finger down my throat to keep from screaming. From now on I phone, I wait, I knock until he answers the door and sometimes I'll come back if he tells me to.
After 6 months of sleepovers, sex, holding hands, and raquet ball he looked me in the eyes one night and told me
"You don't know anything." And I didn't question it.
He is a stranger.
To be continued....