July 18, 2006
These are the moments that matter most while I am trying not to let them matter at all. Our time is fleeting the months turning to weeks, the weeks to days filled with precious moments of perfect-ness that I am trying to not let matter. He couldn’t tell me but I heard the final date as he made plans with a drunken friend over the phone. One month, one month from tomorrow and he will move and it will all be over. And thus we have begun the beginning of the end. I couldn’t sleep last night and tried to distract my tearing chest and tearing eyes with meaningless TV. It hardly worked as he slept lightly next to me. I wanted to crawl into him and hide there so the end couldn’t come, so I wouldn’t have to think about it. We never got to say I love you, even though I dreamt of it, but now its too late, outside of dreams it would be stupid to start that now just to end it within weeks. And so we continue to disguise our love with like, with lust, as to not become more attached then we already are, which would be hard to do as we spend every possible moment together. Part of me says to run away now, prepare myself for the loss by beginning it now but even as I write this there is a welling in my eyes, in my heart that keeps me going back for more maddening disguised love. Maybe when all this is over I can get back to the writing.