2003-05-23 - 12:57 p.m.

'if you were me, you'd be overhung in texas'

I must call Brandon. Because I've been here, in his town, since Wednesday night. And being here has brought him back to me something fierce. I don't need him to be my boyfriend. Or anything for that matter. I just want him to be himself. To be real. I just want to see him. And I'm being a pussy. I'm pussyfooting. And making it a far bigger deal than it should be.

Because I should just be able to call him up and say 'Hey, I'm in town. Let's hang out.' I mean, because fuck, I'm in Austin. How can I be here and not call him? How do I justify that shit. I can't. I can't be here. And leave and never have had the gumption to call him. To do the one thing that I just really need to get done. The one thing I really want to do. Above everything else. Above it all.

I just want to see him. I want to see if he's still got a beard. Or see what his hair must look like now. All long and unkempt. I just want. I can't not want him. I don't know how. I've been doing it far too long now. So I should just call him up and close the fucking book. Or open it. Or whatever.

But when I sit here, phone in hand, just thinking about calling, I can feel this panic surging through me. I can feel it flowing like tiny little monsters riding through my bloodstream attacking my heart with sharp sharp teeth. And it sparks twinges of that almost pain all the way up from the soles of my feet to the very tips of my ears. It terrifies me. And I don't know why.

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