i was in the shower, this morning. i was in such a haze of sleep deprived confusion that i must have stood, disoriented and useless, under the stream of scalding water for at least five minutes. as i stood there, i clasped my hands over my breasts, closed my eyes, and tilted my face up to the warm water. then the ipod shuffled, and i was back in a crowded, dark room in philadelphia.

we were at the concert together. i had felt horrible and raw that day, before you called me. then, after some false protestation; i had put my face on (admirably well) dressed in my standard black turtleneck and off i was. and when i entered the bar, and was in your presence, i suddenly felt potent. i brushed my arm up against yours and was electrified. i stopped to whisper in your ear and felt your heart rate rise.

and we swayed a little to the music, and we went to a diner, and we went back to your apartment, and we were us.

i miss that girl. she was so…young. she had long hair and she wanted something dangerous. she liked to pretend she wasn’t naive. she was - and she wasn’t. you’ll find no generalizing from me, now.

what you didn’t know is that she cried on the way into the city. driving her silly green car along the black highway, and listening to kevin devine, of course; she realized the futility of what she was doing - and she finally didn’t care. because as much as that girl proclaimed that she wanted liaisons and cigarettes, all she really ever wanted was to be held at night.

and this person, now. this person that i find myself inhabiting; a phenomenon as strange as it is inevitable - she is tired. she - i - have just graduated high school, and your birthday was today, and i celebrated with a fucking yuengling and an episode of a failing tv show. alone.

and the tragedy of it all is that i know what i want, now. and i’m afraid i’m never going to get it.