Here’s what I visualize when I think about relationships gone bad: A tumor. I’m excising a malicious tumor htat wants to take over my body. I cut it out, cleanly; ignore those calls, don’t initiate contact. Hell, I delete photos! But this is one persistent tumor. He still resides in me; I still think about him much more than I should – - and not in the way one should think about the past. It’s still present; I am living with him still; I am fighting with him still. I still try to think how we might be together. When he leaves that boy, then we’ll be okay. When he calms down, we’ll be able to elope.
Which is disgusting, prima facie. A year – - a year – - I have thought about this kid. Pining for him, becoming his friend, becoming his boyfriend, getting locked into him, getting thrown away, getting asked back, and then being told gently, softly, almost apologetically (for him) that, sorry, but there’s someone else. A year of that, and what else have I been thinking about? Finding a way to fill that void the cancer surgery has left in me. Work, writing, clubbing, friends, eating, plays, reading, taking trips: they won’t fill it.
At a party this weekend, I met someone dressed as a clown – - B1MB0, THE REB0UND CL0WN!
If only it was that easy to rebound. Or to want to rebound.
