September 2nd, 2024 - The Particles of Order

Dear TNY,

I am alive.  I read “The Particles of Order”.

While I found the text to be rich, and it was nice to have such long scenes, I found myself losing my grip on “care” with the whole writer/intuition/logic bullshit.  I’m going to chalk that up to “it’s not for me”. 

But what is?

What is for me, TNY?

I’m sitting here at a friend’s house in Arizona because I need watchers to take care of me and stop the final solution, and I’m wondering what the fuck is for me, motherfuckers?

The pills are making me sick.  I’m nauseated almost all day long now.  I get high to eat in the evenings.  The doom is back in full swing, pills be damned.  I dreamt about her early this morning. In the dream I wanted to call her to say something.  Like, I can’t live without you, or, let’s get married and never be apart, or, I love you so fucking much and I miss your laugh.  I was desperately trying to get my phone to work but I got some kind of virus on it and I couldn’t access the phone feature.  I was crying in an office building holding my phone, down on my knees like that scene from Platoon.

But then I woke up.  Saw that I was still blocked.  That she doesn’t choose me even though I choose her.  And I wanted to fucking die.  Just dematerialize, my meat and bones becoming molecules and then atoms, sinking down through the vast spaces between the atoms of the mattress, down through the flooring and the slab beneath, into the dry, desert soil below that, ever smaller, ever smaller, deeper and darker, so far down and so small that my heart can’t hurt anymore.

I miss your slight hands, with chipped manicured nails, dirt beneath them.

I miss how hard you tried to make me laugh, because it’s hard to do and you considered it a real accomplishment.

I miss your selection of house dresses.

I miss Maude.

I miss making things for you; I showed off the scissor case two days ago, watching the video on my phone and wondering how we got to the place where you didn’t want to try to figure out how to make me feel appreciated anymore and how I got so goddamn angry about that.

I miss when the magic said we were destined for each other and it felt like everything was going to be okay forever and ever, amen.

I miss watching you take a bite of something I made for you, you closing your eyes and making wild enjoyment noises whilst shaking your little Shetland pony legs back and forth and stomping your dirty little feet, all while looking up at the ceiling with a huge smile on your face.

I miss your baby freighttrain snore.

I miss mud in the bed and the silk pillowcase and the piles of clothes on the floor and a plant in the shower and the stupid bedframe that kicked the shit out of my shins and feet and…everything.

I miss everything. 

Every fucking miniscule detail.

At this point, it’s embarrassing how tightly I’m clinging to all of this.  But that’s the jam, right?  Beauty is embarrassing.

I don’t want to keep going anymore.  I tried hard enough.  I’m not sure what more I can do, you know? 

Humans build things together.  I want to build a life together.  I’ve built many lives within my own life. Alone.  I no longer can stomach doing it that way anymore. 

Fuck me. 

Nick