frozen, cold, bitter, she remains, a cold, a wall, a boiled down version of what the fakery and lies have always hid, you can plainly see she is just an igloo.
the man of the year has emerged with a proposition that was largely ignored. perhaps it is for the best that the bitterness soaked through the sponge to the cracks in her and froze there, so that his message seemed unnecessary and a waste of time. game over man of the year, you can't come back now, not now, not ever. who do you think you are? what sort of tomfoolery of the mind are you up to? and when will she ever be able to hold you comfortably? we know the answer is never, but does he know that? you want to make her dinner and play scrabble, who are you and where were you half a year ago?!
pete has lost his job, which was swallowing him whole, so it was no coincidence that he was present and accounted for at the season finale of 24. what was a surprise was his relentless effort in having her in attendance. there were others, but he wanted her there. and when there is want, there is the desire to have that, even if it is friendly, even if it doesn't mean anything, so she cancelled her plans to sit elbow to elbow with the man that she has always admired, one of her oldest friends, a man she has done anything for, a man she will continue to do anything for.
the sad realization that they have explored each other, spots, moles and marks inventoried, limbs and trunks aligned on his futon, why does it hurt her, the truth is logically, it all makes sense and it is for the best, she was never convinced, but there was a part of her that loved him, that brain of his, that talk of his, that feeling he stoked in her was addictive and she wanted it all the time, all to herself. his recent odd appearances have held that same sheen of joy, but it is tinged now with their mutual exploration, and it is over, it is hard to get it that it is over and it was never gonna happen anyway, no matter how much fun it was to know him and be known. the half hour in which he interloped at the bar was filled with her calamaties and a clumsiness that she'd assumed grew out of her long limbs, but it returned in full force with a jolt from beer and hormones. it's over and it never was.
there is a mutual dislike from the lover she didn't have to love, and it has been boiling for sometime, the realization that you have shared yourself with someone less than worthy and the frustration of being shuffled aside despite how great you are. so he ignored her. and she ignored him. and the bitterness sighed a deep shuffling wheeze and wished that she would just say that she is done with him, but the truth is he shows his worthiness now and again, except he oscillates expertly between jerk and goofball and if only he could rest on the latter for good, but he is on a tear to have something filled that can never be filled...it's true.
and "are you the love of my lifetime?" is still absent from her life. that this new anger is fueled by some old unresolved drama is baffling, but precludes him from being the love of her lifetime and gives him the tagline, "because there's been times I've had my doubts" to know him to is doubt him, for there is nothing he can provide that is stability, at least not for her. his missing presence should be enough to keep him out of mind, but there are too many things that evoke memories of them, him, and sometimes she even wonders if this is it, if this is over, and if it is, then why doesn't it feel like a good thing. why does it hurt so much?
despite all the reasons to resume the stress managing habit that brought her a quick relief, a small joy, a momentary lapse in judgment, she prevailed. two weeks have passed. soon it will be two months. two years. daily there is some new trauma to dissect and dispose of properly (instead of shoving it into a tight space where the bones of long ago pains reside) and the worst of these have been the small infractions of their friendship, between her and her, the supposed bestest of best friends, which was discussed more than felt, because time steeps these things, not words, but words left welts on them, and it is possible there is no going back from this high climb into hysteria. if only she could understand the drunk girl she sees is not her friend and if only her friend could cut her a little slack for being a newly converted nonsmoker with no way to manage the small stresses of life.
the time was spent trying to make sense of all this and more, and in the end she is no better for it, just full of experiences and moments, more than would have been felt from home, more than she has experienced in a while, but it is intense and overwhelming to the senses.
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