It had been two years and a half since I saw her. I can remember, though, how it felt to rub my face against her neck, to smell her body, to feel her warmth. It was a cold December. There was no sun, no rain, only snow. It was cold, and I remember feeling the stinging hail that pelted my face with small rocks of snow. I remember fleeing from the onslaught of the season, as we left the park and obtained shelter in a cafe. The taste of her lips, always like that of her favorite candy, I could still remember. And so it would be that way, that these memories of affection and kindliness would not depart from my mind. But I could not argue.
I am but a human. To argue against my natural inclinations is to challenge debate with the nature of what makes me be. There may be nights, I can honestly tell you, where I am lost in those dreams, trying to find my way out of reality, I am but a human -- a lost man with winds whipping at my back as I squint at the bright sky. As I look around this society, seeing everyone engaging in their normal activities, every person fucked up with the, "Oh, would that advance my career?" or the "What could I do to elevate my relationship?" So call your 900 numbers and ask your psychic. It's only $99.99 a minute with no premiums. The interest of the charge won't be incurred until 2025 or until you die. Because there's no better deal than, "It's an extra $1.25 a minute if you want me to talk with a French accent." As I see these people, wanting to know, trying to strive, I see that everyone is lost. Unlike every other person to write their feelings on a blank sheet of paper, I won't lie: I am lost too. But it's what makes me human. I am deep in the neck of the woods, without a map or a guide. The creatures whisper things like, "I am afraid you are becoming too attached," and "If you don't get an A in that course, I'm throwing you out," and "Remember that time you fucked up before?" and "YOU call this betrayal, I'll call it self-interest." These creatures haunt me as I look left, right, left, up, down, up... I don't know where it will come from or when it will, but I know I'll have to defend myself against these rabid beasts. So I shield myself. I put on the head-gear, even though it blocks out the sky. I put on my armor, even though it blocks out the warmth of the sun. I put on my boots and my fatigues, even if it means that the willows can't tickle by feet. And here I am, lost and armored... the attack hasn't come yet and I already am the loser. Maybe it's because I'm human, like I always believed, but then again, maybe it's because of who I am. And if that's the case, I was fucked a long time ago.
So what? I talked to a friend of this female friend of mine. I had not seen this girlfriend for years, and then I find her friend. "Oh, I'll be seeing her later tonight," she told me, "Is there anything you want me to tell her?"
"Tell her I think she's beautiful," I said.