2003-09-27 - 7:16 a.m.

'rediscovering the joys of saturday morning cartoons'

Everything is coming full circle it seems. As I've set my sights on a boy who lives in my apartment complex with dirty red hair knotted into dreadlocks and glasses. He smiled so pretty when I passed him the other day on my way to my car that my heart leapt. And my nagging inner sadness slept. Was knocked out cold like a light bulb busted. All at the possibility born from that mouth.

He smokes a lot of pot, though. I can tell. And I like that. Not because I have some secret desire to sit around watching public access and taking bong hits, but because kids who are honest about their pot habits are generally pretty honest about everything else. And they tend to be more calm and less scarily aggressive than guys who drink.

And most guys my age drink. A lot. They drink to get drunk. And once the alcohol is surging through veins, rushing through eardrums, fogging good judgment, there's really just no telling. And I'm tired of being afraid. Scared of the monster living just underneath. Waiting to tear free with one too many shots. I want some predictability when it comes to the monsters, damn it. Especially the ones with sharp sharp teeth and the possibility of a hard hard cock.

I don't want to be hurt again.

Meanwhile I've been having dreams where I'm back where I was a full year ago. Dreams where I reunite with Jerry and we dance on the rubble of our fallen friendship. Dreams where I meet Brandon. Or where he kisses me for the first time and I feel it in my elbows. Dreams where I have sushi picnics on my livingroom floor listening to 'Our Lady Peace' and being calm about my fate. Calm about my being alone.

And I always wake up seeing that nothing really ever changes. Sure, I'm in a new place, but I'm still just me. Me with my weak wooden chopsticks and my weaker resolve. Still searching under flat rocks and in dark corners for that golden knight and his most perfect white words to wash all the pain away. Still struggling with all this living. With all this becoming an adult. And not being loved, but realizing that I so want to be. With still being alive and knowing maybe that I shouldn't be.

And I hope someday I'll be able to feel really good again. Happy even. I hope that I'll be able to look back on all this the same way I can look back on last year and put it all into perspective. One day, I hope, this will all seem much smaller than it does right now. Because they say that time passing can do that. Can make huge things into small things. And make the sadness seem nearly bearable.

�

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