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liana

33 years old




if you forgot.

allow me to explain myself

Written 2010-09-22

i used to be sad.
i used to bring home "lost puppies," as my mom termed them.
boys with more problems than me.
boys who didn't love me or treat me right.
or treat me at all.
i used to write a lot about them and about being sad.
i was this little angsty teenager.
i mean, i'm still a teenager. for another five months.
i'm almost twenty.
i'm almost kind of an adult.

*

i went to school.
i had an unfortunate lost puppy boy the first semester of my freshman year of school.
then i realized boys like that are stupid.
i can't fix drug dealers or addicts.
i can't fix people who can't even be fixed by depression medication.
i can't fix people by letting them hurt me.
fixing people won't fix me.
so i stopped trying and spent the longest time being single.
i was single for longer than i had been since seventh grade.

*

i had a friend.
his name is daniel.
we work together. he takes photographs and i write words.
i know that you know that i write words. but his photographs are some of the best in the country.
his resume says so. my heart says so.
he is still my friend. he is my best friend.
i spent the summer at school.
so did he.
that is how we became best friends. not many people were here.
we began going out together. to parties. being a couple.
this was at least two months before we started dating.
i started liking being his other half.
sometimes we'd come home drunk and i'd lay my head on his shoulder.
he'd hold me.
he'd hold my hand as we crossed the street.
innocent.

one night a party at my house got out of control. a friend was sick. i was upset.
as i was cleaning my kitchen, angrily recycling beer cans and rinsing shot glasses, i was crying.
daniel came out of the bathroom where he was helping my sick friend. because he heard me.
"it's going to be okay," he told me. he held me. "i am here. it is going to be okay." he had his hand in my hair. he held me away from him at half an arm's length and wiped the tears from my face. "don't worry. it's okay." he kissed my forehead.
that is probably when i fell in love with him, although at the time i didn't know that was when i was about to change my life.
he spent the night with his arm around me, lying on the floor because i gave my bed to my sick friend.
in the morning he held my hand and i put my head on his shoulder and looked into his eyes.
"this is nothing," we said. "this means nothing."
he held me closer.

the next week we worked late. very late. we got home at two in the morning.
we had a glass of sangria.
we had to go back to work at eight the next morning.
"i don't want to go home," he said.
"fine," i said, "i don't mind if you stay here."
we sat on the couch. he put his arm around me. we were quiet until three in the morning.
i got up and put our empty glasses in the dishwasher. he was sitting on the couch.
"you can either sleep out here," i said, "or you can come sleep with me."
"i'll sleep with you," he said.
we got into my bed, and he held me. i was nearly asleep. i opened my eyes and looked into his.
i knew it was the first day of the rest of my life.
he kissed me.

*

i am in love with my best friend.
i am happier than i have ever been in my life.
i am not a virgin any more.
i think i will either marry him or be his girlfriend for the rest of my life, or never get married.
i am in love with the way my hand fits in his.
i am in love with the way we finish one another's sentences.
i am in love with the way we equally share our burdens.
with how he makes me better. with how i make him better.
with his hands and his feet and his shoulders and his lips and his hipbones.
with his photographs and his successes and his failures.

he loves me.
he treats me like the most precious person.
he goes on road trips with me if i ask him to.
he takes me out for ice cream for lunch.
he kisses me on the forehead.
he kisses me in the elevator.
he holds my hand always.
he tells me i am cute and pretty and beautiful and sexy.
he calls me honey and baby and sweetheart and love of my life and my dearest dear.
he holds me and begs me not to cry about the bad things that happen in life.
he texts me until we both fall asleep.

*

just thought i would explain.


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Diary

2010

September (1)