No, it didn’t work out with the guy I liked. He wasn’t very nice…or very mature. And, no I can’t tell every boy you’ll tear off their arms and beat them if they mistreat me. I appreciate the thought, but I can handle myself. Besides, I know you could never hurt anyone.
By the way, when are you ever going to get married? Don’t you get lonely? Mom gets lonely…she cries at night when she thinks I’m asleep. The only time she ever laughs is when you visit us. I think you should come over more often and stay longer.
How about forever?
Love you bunches
Sorry I missed your call, Stevie. Long time no here.
Bobby died seven week ago. Six was his ‘magic’ number, so I guess he outlived the magic. And yes, he died in a room he rented outside of town.
Of starvation and dehydration and multiple…lacerations.
All self-inflicted. That part is true.
As for the rest…he wanted to be a good man, a good husband and a good father, more than anyone could imagine. But success terrified him, public or private adulation terrified him. Love frightened him.
I always wanted to…save him, rescue him, maybe. But he refused the help. He wanted to be his own best angel, I suppose. When he laughed, when he spoke of family, when he paused to enjoy pleasures without sweating over some nagging indebtedness, that’s when he was most himself. The rest…
When we were kids, he’d draw characters in the margins of his favorite stories, like…I don’t know angels, I suppose… something to protect what he cared about. I don’t expect you to understand any of this, but even the blessings of imaginary friends can seem better than nothing. It’s a kid’s wish that…makes up for what isn’t there.
It takes a long time to realize some wishes can’t be granted…
He found salvation in ritual; checking under the beds, behind doors, in dark corners trying to soothe the beast or convince himself eternal vigilance would create good karma. I don’t believe he even realized he cast out the good with the bad. He was too determined to be perfect. And then he died, slowly, from the inside out, naked, friendless and alone.
Sometimes I think ritual is the last comfort before madness.
Sorry for being so honest, but it couldn’t be helped.
Good to hear you were able to decompress on the beach and collect your thoughts.
As for how I’ve been, what do you think?
Now, I have a previous engagement with a young lady that simply can’t be ignored.