January 18, 2010

He wore a green polo the first day I (re)met him. At home, sitting on the old ugly flower print sofa I told him that he looked like my mother. This was a lie but I felt it was an obligatory statement. The next morning we watched Jerry Springer while he made us breakfast. I remember it being very easy to talk to him and thinking this was odd because it's never been very easy for me to talk to anyone. Its seems like all of these memories are from so long ago. I guess 6 years is a long time. It's funny how much changes when you look back on the past, but how nothing ever seems to change when you examine your present. I wonder what this moment will look like six years from now. I wonder if I'll be happy, if I'll be living in this country or if this world will be nothing but a series of broken rocks floating through the universe. I can't center my thoughts lately. Something is very,very wrong inside of me. There was a man who turned into a woman in my dream earlier today. He spoke the most beautiful poem and I cried. I woke myself up with my sobs. I just remember being very, extremely sad. I remember feeling like I was looking into a mirror and watching all this potential die. Everything around me feels like it's dying. I don't want to die but there is something very, very wrong inside of me. I wish it was I who was boarding that airplane on the 29th, not my uncle. Everyone is always moving farther and farther away from me. Even the man in my dreams who became a girl who spoke the beautiful poem. Even he has left me.