mixedmedia

I was 16. He was 35. It lasted for two years. He introduced me to cocaine and his wayward friends. When I was 18 he dumped me. About six months later he became born again and tried to get me back, but by then I had emerged from that dysfunctional haze and was able to dismiss him handily. Oh, but my god, did I love him once. I believe I did.

I don't look back on it as all bad. There certainly were some bad times and times that make me wince a little to think of, but there were good times, too. For the most part he treated me very well. He was a mess - selfish and fucked up - but he wasn't all bad. I think he loved me too, even though he realized it too late.

I wouldn't mind seeing him again and saying hi. Letting him know that I'm alright...if I were him, I think I would be happy to hear that.

But I'm not about to look him up or anything. If we didn't bump into each other after all these years, then maybe it's for the best.

__________________
Most people go through life dreading they'll have a traumatic experience. Freaks were born with their trauma. They've already passed their test in life. They're aristocrats. - Diane Arbus
PESSIMISM, n. A philosophy forced upon the convictions of the observer by the disheartening prevalence of the optimist with his scarecrow hope and his unsightly smile. - Ambrose Bierce