The voices in my head are taking me on a wild ride recently.
They’ve brought me back to that one time when we were in my bedroom, getting it on and I hallucinated, I suppose, someone else in my place and yours, respectfully. A guy and his mother, oddly enough.
I wrote this dark fucked up incestuous revelation to you in e-mails but why lord have I been plagued with these thoughts these last few weeks.
I mean I know I’m guaranteed to think about you on your birthday because if I memorized anything from your ID when we met in New York it was that, but that hallucination was pre-smoking weed. Pre-drug abuse escapism, but definitely filled with people I was familiar with, which of course fuels the theory that my hardship is man made but I can’t prove that either.
The voices go on like you’re still or have always been in communication with that young man, who also has a child of his own, your actions and life mirror his more than mine, maybe I’m destined to become some “famous nightmare” for you but I digress, you two were talking to each other, meant to meet up or be together before I was somehow tangled in the mix.
So the voices talk and reveal to me, I suppose, that you two still talk. And they reveal this more than they claim we will reunite.
Changing subjects because this has been on my mind too, I don’t know that I want to reunite anymore. I mean in 2022 yes, I definitely did, but now I’m thinking, although you have a place in my heart, that place is also in the past, and whether or not your feelings have changed since that 2013 xanga message, where you promised we’d have nothing to do with each other ever again, it feels to me like I’m finally coming to terms with that. I know I still write to you, or you in my head, and that August 4th will forever be a cursed day, but if you did come back there’d be talking. So much talking…
Oi.