2003-07-07 - 1:29 p.m.
'"never really mastered disinterest"'
She was older. And maybe trying a little too hard when she pulled out a handful of matchbooks and proceeded to do what she called her match trick. Where she'd light matchs and swallow their flames. And I watched her do three matches, then four, then half a book, in complete and utter fascination. And all I kept thinking was that if I were into girls, I'd be into the ones who lick flames. Ones who swallow fire in an effort to impress. I'd want a girl to swallow fire for my love.
The last time, as she lit an entire book of matches with a flick of a wrist, she told me to make a wish. And I closed my eyes up tight and did. She asked me later what I wished for and I told her that I wished to not be alone anymore. It's the same wish I always make. The same wish I've been wishing on stars and eyelashes for as long as I can remember. It's always the same wish. And somehow I think it always will be.
With my murmered and slightly drunken confession that my one and only wish in this life is to be eased from the burden of myself. To have someone else carry a little of this weight. To have someone else in my life to hold me up or to put me back together again. I just want to look to my right and have someone be there. She pulled out a ten dollar bill, looked me straight in the eyes and ripped it in two. She handed me the bigger half and said, 'We may never see each other again. But I want you to know that this has meant something. Meeting you has meant something to me.'
And hearing this lifted me somehow. It stuck with me. Because we're all looking for some kind of purpose in our lives. We all want to mean something to someone. We want the things we do to strectch out beyond our reach. To touch someone other than ourselves. I mean, no one wants to live an entire life in vain. Without meaning. Without purpose. All alone. Do they?
And I've been looking. Searching and seeking. And screaming. And raging. And flailing. I've been trying so fucking hard to just make it all count. Just a little bit. To someone out there. Because my life feels pretty meaningless these days. So it was nice to realize that in that tiny speck of time, I spoke with this amazing girl. We talked. And we connected. And made small dents in each other's lives from the impact. I know this. I do. Not just because she told me it would, but because I never forgot her. Never forgot that barely memorable flash of time.
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