As I sit here drinking my coffee, and listening to the sounds of Hollywood going to work~ the cars driving past my street holding sleepy or freshly caffeinated residents of this city of angels~ I can’t help but think about last nights show. And probably not what you’d assume I’d be thinking about. It was a bit overwhelming to watch the memories of a rape flood through me, and it was a bit unnerving to remember how frustrated I was with James after I tried my best to delicately let him know the thing he said doesn’t work for me. At no point did I blame him, he simply made a comment (a comment I’ve made many times during my life as an addict) and that comment stirred something in my freshly opened wounds. The part that was a bit rough to watch was the bit where Duncan and I sat on the couch, holding hands. I remember how close we were, how much his being there meant to me. I remember where we began, how we began, the sincere way in which our friendship manifest, and it makes me sad that so much has changed in the past 8 months.
We are still good friends, actually he lives right down the hall from me, but something happened in that rehab, something that brought our walls down, allowed us to interact as children, wide eyed and new to the world. New to a friendship. Positively there for each other in whatever capacity we could be. I knew he felt my pain, as I did his. It’s amazing to watch how we came together, formed a solid union, a truly intimate relationship where nothing mattered except the present and learning how to cope with the past. And we still maintain a friendship, but we’ve settled into it. As in any relationship I assume, we’ve settled in to expecting things from each other, into building tiny invisible brick walls that keep us safe from the others day, we’ve settled into being comfortably numb with our friendship and I am not sure whether this is a good thing or a bad thing.
I can’t speak for him obviously, but I can for myself, and I know how I’ve changed in the relationship. I expect him to act certain ways at certain times. I require him to behave as I expect, and when he does, I’m upset and withdrawn. It isn’t that I play god in our friendship (with the expectations) it’s that I don’t want to be hurt by him, and as he can be slightly predictable in his uncanny ability to be entirely unpredictable, I find it safer to guard myself from anything his sharp tongue may say. His incredibly intelligent, one of the most brilliant men I know, but also one of the most wounded and lonely men I know. In the beginning, it made for a beautiful friendship, because we came from the same place of solitude, we walked along the same path of self-hatred and shame, he merely turned his feelings outward and I shut mine down entirely. But as I try very hard to remain emotionally available to the people I love, I find it dangerous because I’m not sure what kind of Duncan I will get.
And I don’t think there is anything to be done about it either. Its like a couple who fell in love, was struck with lightening bolts of desire upon first view, and then over time, without proper attention, and with things we find hard to let go, the relationship begins to just sit in the water. The sex is mediocre. The conversations always the same. There is a complacency settling over the couple like the veil on a bride, she looks so beautiful from the outside, but inside she wonders if death really will be their destined departure. I suppose I need to speak with him, have a conversation and just tell him I thought it was beautiful how close we once were, and that I miss that. Because I am not really asking for change, things are exactly as they should be at this moment, and becoming forceful will muddy the water. But I will tell him I love him, and that I loved him from the beginning. And that I miss what we once were, I miss the friendship forged by our inner children, and I hope to one day come back to that.