Hey you having the worst day. I see you. I’m raging about life and lashing out and it must seem like I couldn’t care less and still…
I see you. I may not ask how you are. I know how you are. I’ve been there, most days I am there and in some ways I have more than you and in other ways you have more than me and in this moment when the feeling hits, words become like water is to a drowning man and still.
I see you.
Thankyou for the ride home.
For the times when you listened to me.
Thankyou for the seconds you gave, making loneliness something imagined for a moment. Yet it fades once I am home and I remember that the minutes and hours are now memories.
Still I see you and I have seen and collected your seconds and have been grateful and you can only imagine because our friendship is a life raft to a sinking ship.
If you have anything left in that cage I continue to call a chest and one last laugh left and any more song lyrics that mean anything. Send me an instant message request and I’ll sell you my memories at £50 a year and perhaps if you can connect to maybe just one of those moments you’ll be able to conceive of a part of this person who is a crack in the skin of Alaska and Thunderfuck has no meaning anymore.
I can be here for you, if you’d like. But I need you to be more than a cigarette in the mouth or a hand shake in the door way and when you look at me I need you to say that you’re not fine and know that I won’t just smile and be content that I’m more than just, “good and yourself?”
I am a heartbeat. As you are. I am bones. As you are. My lips will not kiss like they used to. My eyes will not see as they used to and my heart will always seek Michael Valentine and I am the gayest Mormon and that is the most bizarre paradox and I wish I was even a shadow of what I was and still.
I can see you.
You who is having the worst day.