I not only figured him out, but I allowed for my ego to be bruised many times over, reeking havoc on my conscience and soul. Why was he saying he loved me? Why was he always backing away? None of it made any sense. But the only way it did make sense was truly too painful to recognize.
What I was really reacting to in regards to the bathroom door is simple, another rejection. Another night when I am forced to realize there's no chance for us. I am to go about my single life as a fool. That moment of realization takes on a heavy tone, a constant low droning hum. It bangs on and on like a sordid way of being tortured slowly until you are completely deaf. At that moment I am enraged at what is happening to me, what has happened to me by way of his denial. I am enraged at the idea that I once again allowed his kiss to entice me into thinking there might be a chance, when I know deep down in my belly there is none. It enrages me and I want to slice him up and bury him in the vast desert and claim him missing. At that moment I want him dead and away from me.
But since I can only accomplish that psychologically, he still remains, wondering around in my life like a ghost haunting me, irritating me and trying to fool me into thinking he is alive again.

Big T was here 5:55 PM
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