Big Chrissy and I were up all last night, talking and moping. Our processing was briefly but pleasantly interrupted by the arrival of Victor, Trey, and in-town-for-the-weekend J, all of whom came by to watch Angels in America on BC’s big screen. The film certainly didn’t do much to calm me, although the company was a swell group of guys, and behind my nervous giggle I stifled back the tears about to wash over both of us. Perhaps I’d like to remember this pain in my gut and head as something real, instead of this imagined pain of longing that only occasionally bubbles to the surface as vain-hearted attempts at constructing a new improved reality and identity.
Chris has decided that since I’m not able to commit myself to him in the way that he’d like me to, he needs some distance from me. Actually, not just distance, he needs to not see me “again.” You’ve all seen me occasionally making these grand statements about what I need to do, who to be with, where to go, confidently moving forward on this and that… well, Chris pointed out that I seem to be most resolute in my indecisiveness. I’m not ambivalent about how I feel about him. I love him. And I hope he will let me in again someday.