Strawberry Fields and Revolutions

No one you can save that can't be saved.

-Lennon/McCartney

There are these brief moments in my life when I truly felt that overwhelming love.

You know that bull shit that they have in all the movies. The part where you are falling into a chasm from which there is no return.

That moment that you reach out and graze her hand for the first time. Or that brief first kiss, where lips may not have even grazed, but the electricity between the two of you is enough. That heat in your chest that makes you feel like you are about to split in half, but you would have it no other way, in this moment you want to die a messy death, so that you can go to paradise knowing that you lived so fucking well.

I miss that.

I feel myself at the edge of this precipice. Where I want to just fling myself into meaningless relationship for the sake of not being alone (S. come with me to my car, not alone). There is nothing there past warm bodies and ships passing. And I hate it. I want that real feeling, that one that I know will go away with time. But the one that I could still latch onto when things go shit, when the whole deal goes pear shaped. And the worst of it is, that I was still holding that.

Somewhere inside of me, up until the very end I was still holding that.

I can see it all in my head still, and there is a tiny part of me that still has a leaping heart. Over first kisses and subtle brushes of hands in tight spaces.

And I miss that too.

But yesterday when J. was crying because she was hurt, there was nothing there. Just void, and memorized speeches about how I can't help her anymore, because it isn't my job. Just this venom and bile that I want so badly to be excised from my heart. I don't want to hate her, but I can't seem to help it. I want to be able to look into her eyes and see a friend. But all I see is the person that I fucked up with, and the person who gave up on me. All I can see is her limp wristed boyfriend, and exit wounds. All I can see is throwing myself into the arms of anyone who will take me, just so I don't have to sleep in bed alone.

And I look at the number that was passed to me over a lunch table.

And I know that it is the wrong answer.

And tonight I win. Tonight I will will sleep in the light of The Sacred Heart, The Virgin Guadalupe, and The Seven African Powers. Tonight I will know that I'm alone in such a way that I will want to weep, and wail. But I won't because there is no point in that any more. The time for self pity went away about the time I ended up in jail over my bull shit actions. And in this moment I wonder if I'm going to make it through all of this. And I hear my dad saying, "Mijo, I made it. You can make it."

Do I have the strength.

I think I do.

Is there anybody going to listen to my story

All about the girl who came to stay?

She's the kind of girl you want so much

It makes you sorry

Still, you don't regret a single day

Ah girl

Girl

-Lennon/McCartney

I don't wish I could take a single moment of it back. And when I scream from the stage that I have nothing to show for my time. I'm a liar.

That shouldn't be a surprise to anyone though.

Sorrow is a vice.

File under Vice.