I had an awful night last night, thinking of BiPolar Bear on the street, imagining every horrible possibility, not knowing how he is now, alone in the hospital, his every fear realized. He confided in me on several occasions his fear of losing everything, but not his marbles, although I thought he was more stable, too, despite the lying, manipulating, drama and, well, instability. His former landlords are e-mailing me his mom’s phone number today, so I’ll talk to her and see what’s up and what I can do. I am so lucky. I have security, family, friends, the decorative arts–and here’s this person that I loved so intensely with probably just a toothbrush.
Tales of Post-Twinkie Ennui