12.21.22

Without warning I am always looking for an opportunity to write myself off. I am used to surrender, to offer myself up and then out without worship. In Los Angeles, all the time between 11:30 AM and 4 PM are covered in the same, blank light. In the car earlier my childhood friend asks me if I'm sad all the time. I'm taken aback. Recently I've felt like everything can and does hurt me. She blinks and smiles through her pain. She tells me she is at an 8 out of 10. We're walking on the edge of a thin scalpel, as if everything is going to fall apart or melt under the Los Angeles sun. I tell her the LA River looks like a vision of heaven, covered in trash. We're not really speaking to each other. She's mourning something I won't tell you about because it's her business, not mine. It's been a while since we've been together like this and I don't want to do it ever again. Why? This kind of alchemic reaction between us. Somehow I can't ask: how do I reach you today? I'm afraid of everything. It's strange, it's when we're hurting the most that we find ourselves together but it's also the hurt that keeps driving us apart.