When I met you I was formless really, an amoeba of a person in so many ways that mattered. Something about you gave me a shape, not that that was necessarily positive (I don't believe in that, never really did) but it's what happened anyway.
You were my east and the sun for so long when I was so young, when you'd ride your bike up to work and awkwardly tell me your stories, mostly about how fucked up it was at home wrapped inside a lot of talk of drums and shows and everywhere we were all going and wanted to go, along with the nonsense gossip of the every day. There were dreams floating around everywhere in the lounge where I'd sit and count my tips and edit your papers and smoke while you told me I'd get cancer if I didn't stop so I should stop, could I please stop? You could never date anyone who smoked, not that you'd date me, but still.
They were fairly large dreams - I wonder if we'd recognized them now or if either one of us could even recall- and while I red penned your stuff they were everywhere. Editing, for me, is always love and as weird as it might sound if I read and edit shit for you without charge or bitching - willingly, happily, in fact - it means I love you.
It's what I know to do. It makes me feel useful. It's the most productive way I know to help.
And then you grew your hair and turned into Samson so you thought but more to the point an asshole, except to me you were the same and that's when things got really difficult. I know more specifically now from inside of my own skin that people don't like to be reminded of who they were when they're trying to be different, most especially not when the shift they want to see is so drastic.
Still. There are things you can't stop immediately. There are people you are drawn to even though you know it's not a good idea. There are people you can't let go for a long time, if ever, even when they hurt you. So I followed you around even when I pretended like I wasn't doing that, even when I was so mad at you and so beyond the place where I could even make an excuse for any of it.
Like that night when Kix played Ritchie and filmed the video for some song. It took six hours because they were probably wrecked and some redneck guy pushed me and another guy hit him with his girlfriend's blessing and you for some unknown reason agreed to drive my friend and me over there and then never showed back up because you were trying to hook up with that other girl from the restaurant who had been in some kind of residential care. I had an excessive worn-off Jack Daniels buzz which at that point never ended well and when you finally did show and we'd sat outside the Cellar for hours for some ridiculous reason in heels and unnecessarily short skirts I yelled at you in the car and your defiant face said you knew you were wrong. Just like it said that, with me, it would always be okay, like you always knew I would forgive you.
But you still made me tapes and stuck them in my purse at work. I still loved your mom and your dog. You still made me laugh and got my jokes and could keep up with me. You complained because I drove too fast. We went to Mexico and Daytona, Monsters of Rock and later Metallica and sat in statistics together senior year and you got so pissed because you worked your ass off for a C and I went to office hours and cried and screwed up my homework and got the same grade.
We graduated from college on the same day, in the same room. And then we went in entirely different directions. You flew, I thought. I thought I stumbled mostly.
You were the first boy I loved and so fully and completely, so it's understandable that when I finally chose to move away, when I finally thought I'd found the entirely stoned reason to forget you that all I'd want was for you to not want me to leave and conversely, simultaneously to be proud of me, happy for me maybe. But you weren't happy, you had inexplicable issues with that guy and then you walked away and there really wasn't anything after that until I went to your wedding. And when I thanked your wife for inviting me she said, oh, he wouldn't have had you not be here.
Everything is different now, obviously. I was so bereft originally and now that's in no way the case. I just know that there will always be this particular orbit occasionally. We float into it in a familiar rhythm. We'll always be able to vaguely locate each other in space. And someday when I die you will still be one of the most important things that ever happened, even when nothing appeared to be happening at all.