Before I start, let me define
While I have a few ex-girlfriends, she is the only ex-girlfriend I have.
We spent years torturing and loving each other and teaching each other how not to treat people who love us and whom we love. Diffusing each other. Preparing each other for our respective, very separate futures.
Inexplicable, undying bond. And fuck you for questioning it.
But how long can it go on before one of us has to get away? She left and moved to New York months ago. She didn't call me on my birthday and it's seen as a sign of growth.
The most beautiful, delicate, vicious person I ever missed as much as I do.
Last night was almost wild. Mildly hedonistic. WE'RE AT THE SMOKEY CASTLE in Ybor City. Drinking a little.
Near stream-of-consciousness connecting with
Karolina who doesn't say "what?" when I speak without commas or periods or any punctuation, when I say "innate" too much, and "society" and "soul," like I even fucking know what I'm talking about. But I laugh while I'm doing it. And even if I didn't, I don't have to qualify anything with her.
Almost nothing.
She just interrupts when it's her turn. She speaks, she expounds. I interrupt.
Go.
Ten topics later, "what were you saying a few minutes (topics of conversations) ago?"
We separate long enough for somebody's girl to get in her face and berate her because the girl can't get her boyfriend to stop thinking about Karolina.
Then we're back in the talk.
"You don't read my journal?" I'm miffed at first, but then I'm happy that it's fresh, there's still room to verbally express and move my hands while I retell things I've already told, "Yeah, Miami, the sun, vitamin B, (laugh) it's all cyclical Karolina, it's cyclical, like the water (laugh) under the sun."
I leave the club with another female friend. Karolina's dancing and I stop her: "I'm leaving. Call me tomorrow at work (laugh) and we'll leave and we'll go to the beach."
I stay up getting physical with the friend who takes me home. I awake and she's gone. I have bags under my eyes this morning and I treasure them. I Dress.
Feel like a fool because sex is innately foolish, but laugh about that too, because everybody does it (except comic book collectors). Check my e-mail before I go to work (where all I do all day is check my email)
The first one I read was from
She tells me the story of how MY EX GIRLFRIEND went to a club the other night in her new home, New York, and someone put ketamine in her drink, a tranquilizer(?), not Vitamin B.
"she almost died" HER SISTER says.
So there I am, crying my fucking eyes out thinking about poor little 98 pound (EX-GIRLFRIEND) who's thinking she's going to move to NY and everything's going to be better for her...being drugged...taken advantage of maybe...nothing I can do...she dies while she hates me... she's dying while we still don't understand each other...The fucking love of my life, this little (in many ways) naive girl who I caused so much pain...she's fucked up tranquilized and crying and going to the hospital (maybe, I don't know, did she go to the hospital?) and all because she was running away from me...to some place she knew nothing about...just anywhere...even some dangerous place, just to get away.
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