That bottle of Fernet

I finally gave it to my parents. 

I drank part of it. 

But for months it just stared at me from my vanity. 

Sitting there like this nagging reminder that he didn't want me.

I don't know why I didn't just throw it away. 

But I could never seem to bring myself to do that. 

I don't even know why. 

I didn't want it anymore. 

But I just let it sit there. 

I guess maybe I didn't want to deal with it. 

Or maybe throwing it away was like the final nail in our love coffin. 

I have no fucking clue why I do half of what I do. 

That's just life, I guess. 

But one day I realized my mom would probably like it. 

She likes things that most people think taste peculiar. 

So I brought it to her and it feels good to have it out of my home. 

I told my dad that it was the bottle I tried to give the Phatom when I found out his dog died. 

Because it was his favorite but he wouldn't accept it. 

What a jerk, my dad said. 

Yeah, I agreed, speaking of jerks, guess who I'm not seeing this weekend. 

I was supposed to see that kid from a lifetime ago that I saw earlier this year. 

We were gonna go on a walk or sip chai or some shit. 

But he ended up writing me this verbose email about how hanging out with me causes a disruption in his spirit. 

I didn't even know how to process what he wrote. 

He was the one who suggested we hang out again months ago. 

Wow, my dad said. You really have an affect on men.

Yeah. 

Affect.

That's what I do. 

I make them want to never talk to me again. 

I will never fucking understand. 

I think the only part that actually disappointed me wasn't that I was losing this kid as a potentially restored relationship in my life. 

But was rather that five years ago he looked at me in a way very similar to the way Sheldon & the Phantom did last week. (Was that just last weekend? It already feels like another lifetime.)

The look five years ago chilled my soul. 

So much hate I thought he was possessed. 

So if he could, all those years later, want to walk in my company then somehow it made Sheldon & the Phantom seem less tragic. 

Because who knew what Time might bring. 

She'd also brought a lost lover back into my bed and if I had a million guesses I never would have seen that happening on my life timeline. 

A lot of things I never guessed would happen take place. 

So I can't really say what may or not be. 

But Timing doesn't want me linking all these men. 

Even though I saw that kid the night the Phantom first came to my bed. 

Even though they were the only men in the past decade to write love songs for me. 

God, I love guitar. 

But life isn't always a pattern. 

All of life doesn't make this neat puzzle that I can make out & see a clear image of once it's together. 

The pieces fit. 

But they're from hundreds of different pictures. 

Because my life could have gone in hundreds of different directions. 

But I'm here. 

And I don't want to have an affect on men anymore. 

I want them to want to go for a walk with me. 

I want them to meet me just so I can give them a hug after I'm upset. 

I want seeing me to be something they have to make time for. 

Because if they don't the ache is so great it carves a tiny hole in their heart. 

Because that's what they all did to me. 

Teeny tiny little holes. 

Where the love I saved for them used to be. 

But I learned, through every lost boy, to return that love back to myself. 

And eventually the holes closed over and I forgot to notice the ache anymore. 

Or maybe they'll always be there and I just stopped noticing. 

Like that bottle of fernet I ignored. 

And tried not to look at when I walked by. 

Because people come and go and lovers continue to crawl in and out of my bed, but their shadows, the shadows of their love, the love reserved exclusively for him, each of them, never disappears completely. 

They're buried in my skin.