Paradise Lost

I got an email from my camp boy today. He's in boston. BOSTON??!!! Why are all the good ones in boston all of a sudden. Not true. He was dead to me. He hasn't written in years. Not that I could understand his hand writting. After he started taking greek and latin his hand writing changed and I could barely decode it. It was soon after his last letter that I began to hate him for not showing me the attention I deserved.

He has always been my fantasy boy. He was the first correspondance fantasy I had. I essentially dumped him. One bad french kiss, 40 miles and a cute, poor, Johova's Witness breed skater with dandriff (who lasted only a month) stood in my way. Oh yeah, and that I have my whole life ahead of me attitude that I would gladly have given up for one solid, long-term lover.

I last saw him when I was in Providence. He called my house the getto. Providence doesn't have a getto. And then he went on to live in harlem (how very bohemian) and now he's I guess living in boston.

THIS WAS THE EMAIL:

"what's up molly? I'm in Boston."

And from that my brain goes crazy. Thinking about him.

We spent a whole week at this camp together. And I had to talk most of the time, he was so quiet. I was sure that I was just blabing, asking him questions. He was so beautiful. He really still is. But I could never be with anyone who is smarter than me. His roommates used to quote some big major poem that I can't even remember the name of right now. Paradise Lost. OH GOD. That's it.

The things I have let go in my life. The things I try desparately to hold onto. The Jeremy's and David's and Jason's and so many other tragedies. It's seems so wasted.

Yet I've had this life. This gorgeous life, and at 25 lived in so many places (too many places) and have a budding career... People have told me that they are jealous... but the really great part is how right now I could give that up for a taste of something so strong as love and so committed as a relationship and so warm as a cat sleeping on my own bed in my own house with my own lover.

Yet this is my life. The way I have lived it. I have regrets and passions unfullfilled and what am I doing? I am still not sure. And if I were talking to myself (indubidably) I would say that it's ok. That life doesn't have to have purpose and doesn't have to be grandios if you are happy. right.

But sometimes, inside here, it gets a little lonely. There is a part of me given up, some kind of paradise lost that I am glad has been in the past.

But the people I have lost, have not gone without tears.