See sometimes I just write to be mean. Like that last post.

Adam doesn't drag me down. He usually lifts me up.

Honestly, last night it was the lie that was killing me... now it is the kiss.

I keep imagining it.

Everyone has had a couple drinks. She dresses nicely anyway, but the drinks in his system makes her look even better. Friends, they come together in a crowd and laugh. Maybe in between sips from her red plastic cup she touches his arm or hits him lightly... hinting to him that he is not alone in longing.

And then at some point they slip away, sitting on a couch or getting air on the porch, and they laugh. This is the point where I am furthest from his mind, and he looks at her and she looks at him and they both know its coming.

He leans in and she braces for the shock of his lips, and when they finally meet suddenly everything is a drunken blur. Maybe not so drunken. That was probaby a lie too. After their lips touch, he probably lifts his hand to touch her face just like I do to him, and moves his tounge across her lips. They were my lips days before.

I don't know how long it lasted. Probably forever. I worry that the moment is now immortal; it will live in my head forever and every touch and every word is just another attempt to cover his shame.


I am utterly alone. No one here cares about my problems.

Maybe I am fooling myself. Maybe this is the deep and dying breath of this love that we have been working on.