evol uti on: no, i too,

love

ebruary is my least
F favorite month. It reeks

with chocolate-covered
cherries and Chrysanthe-
mums. It is the time to cele-
brate that annoying word
known as love.

I will be sending out
hate cards this year, bas-
tardized versions of the cute
little notes I was forced to
hand out to others when I
was in elementary school. By
the way, did anyone question
the fact that boys were trad-
ing these love notes to each
other? Noting the pattern of
idiocy that accompanied
“adults” when I was a child,
I am surprised that action
was not taken to rid us all of
that homo-business.

Did anyone actually
read 1984?

On a rampage I have
been, trying to define my
existence based on what I
need, not what others need
fromtme. It makes me vu'l— '

nerabnlel. “Aria y2=:§;’ it hurts; ”

too. But I learn and I learn.

I have no desire to
continue the strange etiquette
of centuries past. If I saw a
guy I thought was attractive,
I would walk right up to him
and tell him. Or ifl thought
someone was being annoy-
ing, l wouldjust say it
instead of talking about peo-
ple when they were not
there. And please, if you see
me at a movie and you end
up sitting behind me. don’t
speak; I’ll dump my vat of
soda on your lap if you do.

What is politeness
but an old memory stuck in
the mouths of every
American?

The first time I said
those three fucking words “I
love you” I thoughtgl was
going to throw up. No, not
because I was nauseous from
the satisfaction that I may
have finally found THE
ONE, but because those
three words were planted
into my mouth by
Hollywood Executives, fat
from the neck up, too. Thank
you big flat people on the
movie screen; you have
made my life a living hell.

And with all utter-
ances of those nasty words,
your heart can still be broken
too, even if you’re still with p

 

your other love-challenged
partner like I am.

I have always feared
a broken heart. In fact, I have
actually made decisions
based on the fact that I fear,
not because I actually wanted
something. Yes, you can run-
away and still be standing in
the same place. It’s all an
illusion really.

I’ll admit it: I have
been in such places of fear
and pain that I was writhing
on my bathroom floor, over-
pained, weak, and paralyzed.

In those moments, I 

always have a‘v'ision"and can
(finally?) describe it all in

Mmmm  yummy 

repeating the pattern over
and over again?

Disappointment only
exists because of
Expectation.

Emotional distress is
powerful. I suppose they
should market it in various
purchase-able forms. Oh
wait, they already do. I can
find everything I need at the
local drug and booze center.
Everything is so simple and
easy. I can’t wait until we
can all stay in our houses and
never leave it, watching tele-
vision 24 hours a day. At
least they’ll have a new gay
channel, so the lives they
portray can be double-fake
and I can go further into an
identity-less existence.
Mmm... yummy... double-
fake chocolate cake sounds
good.

I suppose it is easy to
be numb. Amber waves of
grain. Right. Endless days of
pain. " L 5‘ ' ‘ 7'

I We’re too"used to it._

Bubbles. Boxes.

Double-fake chocolate
cake sounds good.

my own words: The whole-

ness of my body and mind
has been dissected and sepa-
rated into five to six parts; I
am still physicallyiintact, but
I am lying on that bathroom
floor in pieces, crawling
around, crying, angry; to
become whole again I have
to reach down to the floor
with my broken back where
those pieces are and pick
them up, one by one, each
searing hot and heavier than
the one before it; I lose grip
on them; I start over again.
I am love-challenged.

Sure, I have experienced
what I thought was love.
How many times have you
felt like throwing up when
nothing went as you had
originally planned, when the
future you created in your
head was erased by a fight, a
fuck, or a new-found friend
you start fantasizing about.

Saunas. Suffocation. No air.
Nothing nothing. Nothing.
Coffin. Worms. Creeping.
Dirt. Alive? Movement. '
Shape. Form. Twitching.
Electricity. Moving. Light.
Alive? Alive? Am I alive?
Are these hands mine? This
steady breathing?
Involuntary. Choice.

I am alive. I am
back.

Deep. . .deep. . .deep
breathing.

In.

Out.

Slowly.

Surely.

Be sure to celebrate
Valentine’s Day this year.
Take out the construction
paper and make your own at
least. These are strange
strange days these days. I’ll
say. Empty ones for most of
us. I

 

_\an¢.

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