December 14, 2012


Dear Long Lost Page,
Life has become so different in so many ways that I can barely begin to state the things here or even approach a semblance of anything remotely coherent. I'm lost, I'm in love, I'm in LA. I live here now. Um, sort of. I moved here Monday and am living in temporary (AMAZING) arrangements without the one person with which I've ever felt a true romance...he resides somewhere in Brooklyn Heights, being the unbelievably amazing person that he is, with eyes the color of dark copper and hands that find the small of my back as if by magic. So many things I've left untold, and so many moments I've sheltered with my shroud of protective nurture...the things we've shared that I want no one but us to know, those conversational instances wherein we stood staring at each other, saying out loud to one another, It's hard to believe we can talk like this. I am so deeply, horribly, awfully, awesomely, amazingly in love. I know I deserved this. But I doubt either of us deserved this the way it happened.

We've yes, true to this record, been into each other for a long time. But things waxed and waned, as things do. We...I don't want to illustrate the intimate details...decided, I suppose mutually, when I announced my departure, that we'd see each other on as many occasions as possible. When that kicked into gear, when he was constantly next to me with his gazing dark copper eyes, everything began to make sense. And when our sparring conversations became that much more intimate and meaningful, when our pretzel twisting limbs became that much more natural, well...I began questioning everything. Yet, I had made my decision (and set it into stone with the company.) (No backing down now.)

I really don't want this post to be about LA, or about missing New York or about Johnny (which is an entire post in and of itself considering he has become one of my best friends ever, and has been NOTHING but amazing to me over this past my J)...I really just want to make it loud and is very real, when it walks right up to you, stares into your eyes, rolls you onto the floor and makes out with you madly. Love is this feeling that tomorrow won't be so bad...and, honestly? Greg has given me this sanctity of love that is's like wanting to shout, cry, laugh, smile, kiss, sleep, hug, wake up in a nightmare with that person there...touch fingertips during a play, argue over darts, link arms and stomp leaves through Gramercy Park...grab arms while sleeping, interlacing them like braids.

He tried so desperately to fill our last days together with everything he could. And he did it well. He took me for coffee, he read me David Foster Wallace excerpts, he took dozens and dozens of photos of us, he stared at me while I did things, like pack, and pace, and seem concerned. He hugged me against his chest and whispered things to me that only I need to know. He was nothing short of amazing. I'm hopelessly in love with him.

To lighten things, I did stalk some photos of him from Facebook. Oh, HOT. I didn't really anticipate getting myself into something with someone so ridiculously gorgeous...good idea KB, right before you move, fall in love, then move. You've never been one with grace.

Done with this, missing him like crazy.