I remember doing cocaine in my dorm room...you weren't, just him and I, but the rest of you were all there and we were watching a movie about the disco era (54 or Boogie Nights, I get the two nights so confused). You were on the floor, drawing in a sketchpad. You were drawing in pen (I don't know why, for you've told me since that you hate to draw in pen), you drew a picture of a Klansman whose dark shadow spelled out "HATE." And I thought of just how beautiful you were at that very moment.

That scared me so much. That was back in the days when sometimes I believed that all I really wanted in this world was for you to kiss me. Now that you have, I realize that it wasn't enough, that when it comes to you, there's no such thing as "enough."

I wish I'd never found that out. I wish that I'd let myself live with that simple longing, and that we still naively held hands like it was the most natural thing in the world.