Friday, January 22, 2010
It's Nothing But Time And A Face That You Lose
It's currently something like 2:20 in the morning right now, and I can't sleep. Actually, make that 2:21. It's not for a lack of effort either; I've been lying down for almost half an hour so far and so far, nothing.
I'm not by any stretch of the imagination an insomniac or anything. Usually by two I'm out like a light. It's just that I made the very, very, very stupid mistake of listening to Esthero's "Bad Boy Clyde" to try to lull me asleep, and it's had the exact opposite effect on me: Now I can't.
It's just that for the first time, when I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep, usually Clyde will cross my mind, but tonight, I've started noticing that I can't remember him as well as I used to anymore. I mean, I can still remember his face and his voice, the tattoos and the things we did together, but now it's getting hazy. I'm forgetting him, and quite frankly, that scares me. I don't want to forget him.
But part of me knows that that's not possible, because eventually it's just going to be too long. I'm going to lose pieces of him whether I like it or not (probably the latter) and I'm not ready for that. I've been having some pretty massive mood-swings lately, and the result (or cause, I'm not sure which) has been the fact that I'm thinking about him more and more.
The worst part is, I'm starting to feel like I'm running out of words here. There just aren't enough out there to even begin to describe what this is like. I want to move on but I don't want to forget him. I told myself that I couldn't live without him, but I am. He said he would never let anything happen to me, but I couldn't do that for him; if anything, I sometimes wonder if maybe he'd still be alive if I just did something differently. Maybe if I kept him at home the night he went off, or if I hadn't been there the night he cut open his foot and had to go to the hospital. I know it's a stretch, but maybe it's not so crazy. Maybe this is my fault. And now I just want it to stop hurting, but I'm afraid that if it ever does it won't mean anything.
I recently got asked the question about if there was a fire and you only had a minute, what would you save? All I could think about was the box of little things Clyde left behind in the closet. Collectively the entire thing is probably worth ten cents. I have a standing mixer worth almost $500 for Christ's sake, and the only thing I would take with me is worth about as much as a coin you find on the ground. But other than my memories of him, that's all I have left of him. And now my memories are fading. So...What now?