There was a time when the back seats of cars, closed doors in bathrooms, parents going out of town, where everyone around me was spinning out of control. I’m gay I’m straight, what we want is what we want, is what is. No time. No space. Forced fun. Fast pace. Bad taste. I remember endless nights, and even longer days. I loved the mornings. I would shake from all the pills and caffeine alone in my room but at least everything would be quiet.
I lived in a small white walled two bedroom apartment with my ex-boyfriend from high school who after graduation flew off to california started wearing white belts, posing in mirrors with his hip bone poking out from his low cut jeans. He went out to gay clubs, stopped eating, discovered blow, found a live in boyfriend. His down to earth, laid back nature was replaced with anxiousness and all he wanted was more. He ran out of second chances and came back home. When he asked to live with me, I think I was still in love with him. I was a different person then.
He always had the air conditioner on high with the side window open, and the music turned up to volume level 23 or 26. I never had the music above 12 when I lived with my parents, not even when I played NIN as a fuck you mom, fuck you dad, you just don’t fucking get it sort of thing. Have you ever heard New Order’s Temptation at 23 or 26? It’s void filling. But it never was really like that when he played it. There would be 30 people in this small room, like I mean small, it was like, I don’t know, but the smell of stale cigarettes is vivid.
When we first moved in everything looked so clean, white paint covered everything. We didn’t have any furniture so we made a fort in the living room. We would take late night walks and I would gather flowers from gardens to bring back home. “You are so hot, oh my god. Do you think he likes me? Whatever, I mean I don’t care. Do you have a smoke? Why wouldn’t he like me, look at me.” I never really listened, thats why I can’t even put together a real thought of his, I was too busy looking for alley cats.
My head hurt, my hands shook, I couldn’t keep any food down. My sense of reality was blurred, I couldn’t figure out the time or day I just knew I was tired and angry. I wanted to sleep. After three days of being on the run, I walk through the door and there is giant pot sitting in the middle of the living room, full of cigarette butts and bottle caps. All the lights are on, there are dirty dishes and bottles and cans all over the floor. The air conditioner and music are making my brain melt. I can feel a knot inside myself tightening. I can’t figure out if I am going to yell or cry. I turn all the goddamn overhead florescent lights off, pull open the shades and windows.
I hear the shower running and realize he is home. I would usually avoid the confrontation and just let it be, but not anymore. I don’t care what he does. I go in my room and lay there. I can feel my heart beating against my chest, my hands get cold and my face grows warmer. I hear the water stop and hold my breath.
my dad hid
plastic liter bottles of vodka and gin in the rafters
I didn’t understand why they were hidden,
but I knew not to ask.
If you did anything that drew his attention you knew you were in for it.
I still find myself when I get really scared, clenching my checks.
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Ever since I’ve known him he has this magnetic field that draws you in. He is a spiral of intense sadness and complete euphoria; he is just trying to make something stick and he can’t. He wants things to be better but doesn’t even know what is wrong. I get him to unlock the door and he crawls back into the bathtub, and begins shaking back and forth. His face is buried in his knees and the sink is over flowing. I climb in and hold him. I honestly don’t know how long we sat in the tub I just watched the water fall from the sink to the floor and eventually cover the tiles. It would stop when it reached the dark brown ones cause the floor was higher there. There was no moving him, and when I asked him what he wanted he just held me tighter. I could have stayed there all night, but it all became too much. I turned the water off and asked him if he wanted to go home. He didn’t lift his head, he didn’t say anything. So I left him.
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I am a terrible person.
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