Truly writing to the bones...
I wonder if it's a need of you or a need of what we had and everyone tells me it's the latter but who can really know? So I tell them, it can't end worse than it did, and I need to know, and I think I still love you. Because I need a best friend right now, and you were one of the best I ever had. You loved me as no one did or has since and I need that again. And I thought it wasn't just the need, but you that I needed back and if I could just wrench up the courage and call you, I would find out.
And I don't know what it means, that my heart was pounding so hard as I stared down at your name on my cell phone, as I pressed send and listened to the rings; I don't know what it means that this pent up desperation was met with such anti-climatic blandness as you learned my identity and you talked to me like we were merely some friends who had fallen out of touch and were now getting it back, the touch that was no special touch at all. And you asked about my family and told me about yours and your life and when I told you that I missed you, you said "Thank you."
You had to go because you had work in the morning, and were just falling asleep as I called today; I wanted to call before the day ended, the first day of the year and I thought it would be fitting to start a new year with a new attempt at recovering that love we had between us. So you took down my e-mail address and I reminded you of my screen name and you told me that you were on MySpace, the one place online I hadn't thought to search for you this past half year when I looked for you everywhere I could.
And I look for you in the city, did you know that? When I'm passing through Queens on the train, or the airplane hovers above LaGuardia's landing strip, so near your apartment, I know I'm close to you and I remember all those times I went to you and how whenever I went to you, with whatever, you were there for me. I was in the city today, and I always search the faces of people going by, wondering if one of these days I'll see your face on one of the 8 million occupants, plus visitors, rushing around on the sidewalks of Manhattan. I was in Chinatown, and I needed the N or the R, the Q or the W, to get back to Penn Station and it struck such a deep chord because that was the line I took to you all those times, all those years ago, when we were such different people. I wanted so badly to stay on the train, pass by my stop, and ride out straight to you. I wanted to reach you so badly...
But I found your MySpace page and when I scroll down to your information, nerves tingling in my fingertips, it says you are in a relationship. And I think I should be devastated but I'm not sure what it is I feel, only that it becomes more real when I look at her page and see the picture of you two hugging, smiling at the camera, looking so happy above the caption that reads, "Me and my baby!" And she could hardly look more different than I if you had tried to find my opposite, but there you are, with your arms around her, those arms that used to hate to ever let go of me. There you are, looking at the camera with those brown eyes that would gaze into mine forever if we only had it.
But forever only exists in fairytales and dreams, and I dreamed about you last night. I dreamed I told you I wanted to try again and you were so happy I had said that and I took it as a good omen that I should call you tonight. And people ask, how do you know when you're in love, and I thought I knew while I was with you, and I thought I knew afterwards when I reflected back on it, but now I don't know if I'm brokenhearted, how do you know? Is it this numb feeling spreading throughout me? Is it that cracking I didn't feel but thought I should? Is it the tears that won't stay put when I realize I'm alone, still, forever, it seems?
How do you tell if you have a broken heart and how do you tell your first love, your only love, so far, these things I told you, only to receive such bland replies? How do I go from the passion we had, in love and in hate, in everything we encountered, to a vanilla friendship? Because I have such need of you, and maybe it is a need of love, but whatever it is, it exists and you will not fulfill it anymore, because you have someone new; you have moved on from me, so much so that when I call out of the blue, over two years since we parted on such harsh terms, tears and accusations flying like bullets in a civil war, you can be perfectly fine with it. And I suppose there is no reason why you shouldn't because what need have you of me, now?
What need?