July 26, 1997
journal,
stream of consciousnessHis eyes are deeply dark; he looks at me like I've forgotten something, like
he didn't get what he expected.
He will visit other parts of this ocean; we will get lost in the depths.
I feel like a child who's misbehaved. I didn't want to watch movies with him anyway. I have been on this island of me long enough - did I choose these shackles? Did I fashion them myself?
He wants to watch "
Mad About You". I want to
cry.
Does he feel this awkwardness? Why does he stick around - out of tradition? It'd be a shame to let a
friendship of 10 years quietly, pathetically fizzle out.
And looping in my head, heard in Casey's car, Fiona Apple singing, "All I want is to save you, honey, or the strength to walk away."