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.