I hate when the past comes a-knockin’.

He said he cares about me.

He should buy a plant and take care of that instead.

If how he treated me is indicative of how he’ll take care of the plant… shit, might as well put that leafy green in tonight’s supper because eating it would be a mercy killing.

Anyway, I blocked him on everything so he can’t rob me of my dignity anymore. And I have a sneaking suspicion this’ll be my last blog post since that fucker knows the URL, and I want to be rid of him.

He can go rot.


I found the answer, and I’m cool with it.

Recently there was this really nice, sweet guy who was texting me. I finally met him and I just knew it wouldn’t work out. Why wouldn’t it work? The dude was just too… clingy and kind, a bad combination because you can’t tell this guy to fuck off without feeling wretched.

He kept calling me shit like “angel face” and “beautiful.” Legit, this dude told me he heard birds singing in the morning and knew they were singing for me. REALLY, MAN?!

I don’t know why he got attached to me so quickly and with virtually no contact, but it fucking happened. This dude was playing with the “L” bomb and it freaked me out.

I told him it wouldn’t work. He asked me why I didn’t like him. I didn’t have very good reasons.

And then it hit me: Is this what it was like for Michael? Was I standing in his shoes now?

I mean, here was a nice guy who liked me, and I didn’t like him back for reasons I can’t explain away 100%. Everything just clicked together. He doesn’t want me, he’ll never want me, and there isn’t anything I can do about it.

I did the sweetheart a favor and told him all the little things I felt uncomfortable about. I wanted him to have closure; I almost wanted him to hate me so he’d be able to move on easily and quickly. I didn’t spare his emotions. I think I did the right thing, even if he locked those pretty, blue puppy-dog eyes on mine. He told me he’d wait for me anyway and that I should call him again. Christ, I feel like shit.

This experience has cleared my vision. I see how I suppose Michael saw me. Things just wouldn’t work in his eyes.

There’s no sense in pining. These last few months of feeling down… they feel so stupid to me now. I wasted time being sad over someone who never cared when I could’ve been looking for someone to be happy with.

I think I can say I’ve made my peace. I’m glad. This isn’t something I wanted to take with me to my grave, and it seems… I get the feeling I have limited time left.

Batten Down the Hatches

Something bad is coming.

A foul thing is on the wind, and I don’t know what it is.

I miss my grandmother. She could read these things, give them form, and send warning. Most of the time she’d just let things be (Buddhist monks and they’re pacifist ways, I guess).

This feels like… like something irreparable may happen. A damnation, worse than death.

I’ve told Alex and Abe to watch themselves.

I’m scared.

I wrote that yesterday.

I had a vision or something just now. I know it sounds fucking crazy as shit, but it happens from time to time.

I felt Michael hurting and then he was gone. I don’t know how to explain it. But it was bad. I felt something similar when Grampa died. It was frightening and I deeply regret not calling him when I had the chance.

I’m scared. I want to tell him to be careful, but I don’t want to sound like a lunatic or break his wish for space.

I hope I’m just going off the deep end or something. I don’t want him to be hurt.

Just please, please, please be okay.


My father called this morning. I told him what I saw and felt; I know he’s had similar experiences.

I felt him leaving. It was so bad and awful.

There isn’t much you can do, Koog. When I get that feeling, I just tell the person to be careful. Tell him to take care of himself and then try to brush it off.

I keep staring at Michael’s GChat icon. I want to click it and say, “Be careful today. Watch your six, and take care of yourself.”

I can’t do it for some reason.

Run Away to Forget

Alex, Rachel, and I decided we’d move out to Seattle. We looked at a few houses that would suit us, picked out furniture, and sorta planned out how much we would each have to save to live in the city/suburbs. I’m pretty excited thinking about a new life out west… But it feels like I’m running away. sigh

I miss Michael so very much. He’s been on my mind a bit more often than usual, and I feel restless. If I’m being honest, there hasn’t been a day he’s not flitted through my thoughts.

I’m worried my heart won’t heal. I’m not in limbo anymore, wondering if he’ll ever want to see me for a cup of coffee or beer. I’m wondering if he’s getting enough sleep, eating well… Falling in love with a pretty girl who treats him with kindness. A part of me hopes he is. To my very core, I want him to be happy. It just hurts me. But don’t worry. I’m trying to become a masochist.

Maybe running away is a good thing. I won’t be reminded of him by so many things. That’s a lie. I can’t even eat a burrito without remembering him; he took me to eat my first one at a Qdoba. 

I shared a lot with Michael. I told him I thought making lasagna was a very couple-y thing to do and that I’d like to make it with my significant other someday. He went grocery shopping, bought all the ingredients, and we made some bomb-ass lasagna sauce in a wok he was very excited to receive for his birthday. At the time, I thought the gesture was sweet; now I almost feel cheated out of something I wanted to share with the guy I end up with.

Too many memories keep choking me up. The glasses I drink from were Michael’s. The tickets to the Oriole’s game are on my fridge (why the fuck do I still have those there?). A black seashell in the shape of a dick he picked up from South Carolina rests on my windowsill.

While cleaning out my email, I came across a letter from Michael. I cried when I read it.

There was a lot more to it, but those words are only for me.

I may be looking at houses in Seattle… but Michael has permanent real estate on my heart.

When Did It Happen?

Sam: Do you know the exact moment?

Me: I’m pretty sure it was when he came over when I was sick. He made me grilled cheese and tomato soup FROM SCRATCH!

Sam: You and your fucking grilled cheeses. You know you can’t have dairy on the paleo diet, right?

Me: Yeah, it blows.

Sam: Well you haven’t started yet… Want a grilled cheese? 

Me: I don’t fall in love with every person who makes me sammiches, Samuel! And it’d take a lot more outta your ass to make me fall hard for you!

Sam: You never know!

Me: Fuck you. I’m making chicken teriyaki and rice, and you’re gonna eat some with me.

I like having company when I can’t sleep. It has now been 24 hours since I’ve had a complete REM cycle.

I’m envious of Sam’s slumber… I’m gonna wake him up now.

This is what it felt like when the slaves were freed

I feel good.

Michael texted last night. We talked and it feels like things are finally over. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea to talk, and I’m okay with that. 

I feel free. No chance of having him back has given me a way to move on. 

If the world were perfect, I would’ve liked to be able to chat with him on occasion. He feels I’m not over him. I think a good description of where I was… I was on the edge of a blade; I could go either way. His telling me to move on pushed me to one side. I’d been waiting for him to say something, and I got a something. 

I’ll miss our conversations. I’ll miss him. I’ll miss you, Michael. I know you read this shitty blog, you fuck.

But that’s life, and my life is pretty spiffy. Smiles for miles and enough drink to baptize several children.