Saturday, December 24, 2016


When I was staying at Bill's house, he asked me about the trip I'd had so far and although I had experienced so much prior to meeting you, I could not stop gushing about you. Bill said "you really actually love him, that's amazing. I've never had that, and that's so rare to see."

I knew that I was and am inherently different from Angelenos, where everybody is busy working and carving a career for themselves to put too much care into love: heck, even in Singapore, I'm the girl who feels too much. So I say, tone it down and check yourself, lest he be wary of you and all your emotions.

I don't love you when I tell you my life story and cry and you say "I would want to run away if that was happening to me", I don't love you when you call me at 3am as I'm asleep somewhere in Tahoe and I'm groggy and I ask who you are although of course I know who you are, of course my heart knows your voice, and you say, offended: "what? it's Joey!" I don't love you when I'm reading beside you while you are working on your car in the garage and Ti'aan teases that you are always thinking about me when you're drunk, which Ti'aan says is a good thing because a person loses his inhibitions when drunk and what you say is what you really want to say.

I don't love you as you tell me about the smart kids who get school trips to SpaceX, and their really intelligent questions, and I don't love you as I wish I'd been passionate enough to ask something that you would deem intelligent. I don't love you as I see you playing the keyboard and I want so much to hug you but I feel you would be overwhelmed, that you would know of how much I don't love you, so I hold myself back and watch you through the mirror.

I honestly don't love you when you ask me what my favourite movie was as we're eating sushi, on the day we went to Thousand Oaks to get your Triumph, and I got really pissy because you'd already asked me for my favourite film, and you didn't remember.

I don't love you during my last weekend that we spent in Hermosa, when you gripped my hand tight to lead me back to safety, all the while I needed to pee and would not stop bugging you about it. I don't love you as we reached your place, and finding that Russ was also concussed there, and you take care of him and put him to bed.

I especially don't love you when we were at Hermosa and I stop myself from running my fingers through your newly-cut hair, and while I was in your embrace, you say "I'm gonna miss you" but you refuse to say it again when I pretend that I missed it, either because you are so loath to express your feelings thanks to a culture of toxic/fragile masculinity or because you don't want to legitimise it because I'm leaving soon. I don't love you at all.

I don't love you as I'm showing you a bootleg of Hamilton and you fall asleep, then defensively say "it's muffled! I can't really hear what they're singing!" although of course you can - if I can make out what they're singing, surely any American worth their salt can make it out.

I don't love you as I tremble in my bedroom, finding out life-changing information, wondering how we could have done something that would eventually change my life and me as a person, while simultaneously thanking God that if such a thing was happening, it was with you, because I'd never felt safer in my life.

Happy holidays. I don't love you, and I always will.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Woah! Badass and very well written!