When people are mad they're not really mad.
It's a reaction to something deeper.
They're scared.
They're hurt.
They're sad.
I'm really fucking sad.
I've been so frustrated and so angry.
I was starting to believe that's how I really felt.
Anger is never what you really feel.
I don't know exactly what happened.
How it happened.
I went for a climb tonight.
And I met someone new & I climbed well.
I even saw a man so beautiful I had to restrain myself from walking up to him & asking if he wanted to fuck sometime.
I didn't want to go out with him.
I wanted him to lay on top of me.
Sexual frustration hasn't helped my sadness.
And after my climb I went for a run.
I really like running.
I can't believe it because I always hated it.
But I love it.
I can't believe I love climbing either.
But I guess most of what we love we never know we will until it's consumed us.
I started running and I felt fine.
I'd gone to the gym alone but didn't feel lonely.
I had fun.
And my body felt alive as my feet pounded the cement, slowly, determined.
And I rounded a corner and looked across the river at the city lights and it hit me like a sudden smack on my ass.
He's not coming.
The Phantom wasn't going to see my show.
It was already closing weekend and I'd only get to embrace this moment for four more nights.
And he wasn't going to see it.
And neither was Sheldon.
I still can't really believe I lost them both at the same time, like they were lost at sea on the same ship.
At least then I probably wouldn't feel as hurt.
The Phantom's Facebook profile picture is the photo I took when I sat at his bar and he made me sorbet, just because.
Because I was his lady and he wanted to please me.
And he was so pleased having me there, he so delighted in that moment and I captured it.
The photo shows him with this relaxed, smile of pure joy as though he hadn't a care in the world.
He looks so handsome.
But I took it five months ago and he won't talk to me at all so having that there, broadcasting that moment to the world feels so cruel.
His smile is mocking me.
It was my moment.
It was my smile.
And it's all gone.
But it sits there, taunting me, like a ghost who keeps tapping me on the shoulder but no one is there.
Nothing is there.
And I've wasted so much energy screaming into the wind and it changes nothing.
He won't be in the audience.
He won't smile for me like that ever again.
And Sheldon feels nothing at all.
I'm the one who died at sea.
And neither man mourns the loss.
And I've tried so hard not to care.
To be strong.
To be sassy and sarcastic and give no fucks.
But my heart.
My fucking heart.
I called Sheldon even though I knew he wouldn't answer.
And I rounded the other corner and there it was.
This giant boulder.
A huge rock, calling to me, like a pair of giant arms welcoming me for a hug.
God, I wanted a hug.
From either of them.
And I'm just sitting here.
On this huge rock, as the wind hugs me too.
The last time The Phantom hugged me he didn't want to let go.
I wish that guy was on this rock.
Then we could be sad together.
And maybe the anger would melt away.
But some things are too painful to hope for.
Because I think hope is smart enough to know when it's been beaten.
I can't make someone appear.
And I can't make someone care.
No matter how much I scream across the river.
I don't know why you're holding onto this.
There's nothing to hold onto.
All the players are gone.
So I'll shine onstage.
Alone.
Brighter.
So maybe he'll at least feel it.
Maybe they both will.
My summer of lost love.
All my loves.
gone
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