2002-10-30 - 11:23 a.m.

Ok time to fess up. I'v been writing my heart out somewhere else. But I used protection! And I swear, he means nothing to me! It's just after a long day I need the release, and with you there's so much pressure to perform, to make you laugh. What about me? What if my day just doesn't do it for you anymore?

I wake up and you're here. Everytime I check my email or a newspaper, there you are! It's like you were smothering me and I just couldn't produce anymore. I felt dysfucntional, like less of a writer.

I felt like I needed something different, something new. Then he came along and suddenly every preposition I wrote sparkled again. All my jokes and topics were new again. It was as if I had just learned how to write again, and it felt like exstacy.

But then I felt like I was neglecting you. That you weren't even getting a tiny bit of my attention. I felt like I had abandoned you, adrift in a morass of bad prose. I wondered if you missed me. Did you even notice the difference? Did you notice when I just tried to dash any old thing off, and then finally, nothing at all?

When I was replaced, I cried. I expected it of course. I knew you couldn't just leave a big gaping hole in your text, in your heart. I knew you needed someone to speak to you, to tell you what the world looked like from a little corner.

Somehow, I just hoped the day would never come. That I would never have to have it waved in my face. Her words written on my space. I felt defensive of you! Possesive!

But I made myself wait. I calmly let a week or two go by. I had other responsibilities, other people to satisfy. I felt fulfilled in the other arenas, but somehow whenver I saw you, looked at your backside, and didn;t see a piece of myself there, I hurt.

So here it is. It's not so much a comeback, as an explanation. To all the new young parts of you I haven't met, who have never seen my style inked across your face. To all the people on the bus who fold their Caellian in half and then scan the back cover as they ride. To my friends, who wondered what happened. To myself. I missed seing myself there.

It was as if all of a sudden you didin't have any reflection in the mirror. As if your rutgers ID dissapeared. As if your feet were made of brie. Ok well maybe not brie..... cheddar.

I am sorry. I can't promise it won't happen again. But take this as it is,

A love letter to you, all of you. I missed you.

-bsg-

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