I had a love

I had a love. It happened seven years ago, in January. It was intense and only lasted about a week. It re-emerged here and there, but its recurring theme was heartbreak. We hadn't communicated in about 2-3 years. Now he's dead.

I was meant to go to the beach today, but I couldn't. Seven years ago, he and I went to the beach. We talked, touched, and kissed until I caught the ferry home.

Seven is so many years, but time twists and pulls in strange ways. Bowie often sang about that, and he died one year ago, also in January. I didn't cry for Bowie, but I cry for Nick. And each time I'm surprised.

Today is very hot and very strange and the tears keep surfacing. I never know how to do grief or whether I'm even entitled to be grieving, especially for people outside my daily life. But I'm told there are no rules. I haven't seen him in seven years, but there were occasional chats. There was a promise of 'one day'. But mostly I'd put a lot of effort into forgetting him. He was no good for me.

But here he is again, making me cry again.

Ours was a broken love, fractured by fear and collective heartache. He treated me poorly but I loved him anyway. I don't know how he died. I don't know that we would've ever talked again. But I know that I want him to be alive.

He inspired my first Sad Boy Songs zine. He's found in the sequel too. He also lives in my conversations and memories of heartbreak. His touch has never worn off.

Maybe these are the same tears that I stifled the last time he hurt me. Maybe they're a slippery substitute for all the words I never got to say to him.

Maybe I should be grateful for this love, but I hate him for dying.  

I've been writing to him today, expressing my sadness and anger, and trying to make something of these messy blurry emotions. I'm not sure that it helps, but it's all I got.