I stopped writing after you. I guess I just feel like I have nothing left to say. I poured way too many poems into the palm of your hands just to become a blocked number. My words were never enough for you, I knew that. You needed my hands running through your hair, and I dont mean metaphorically. I mean you needed my physical hands touching your scalp and I could never understand how you could let the miles break our connection when I was the only one who understood how to touch you without ever touching you. Seven months of being your rock and you treat me like dirt but I guess that’s what I get for becoming your inanimate object. And maybe your happy but I recall January 14th of this year being a very sad day. Yes, I remembered. But I think you forget way too often how well I brought you back from the dead. Sometimes I wonder if it was just that your feet hurt too bad and I was the closest thing to lean on. You gave us no other ending than the way we started. You let us become strangers and to tell you the truth, I often find myself wondering if any of it was ever real. Its almost as if all my words to you were only written in pencil since they were so easily erased. Maybe its okay that I lost my only sharpener back in the 7th grade, I have nothing left to say anyway. I’m sorry, who are you again?
This is how you say goodbye in the only language I could ever speak to you through
“I think people are used to seeing actors be wide open and desperately giving of themselves, and while I do that on a movie set as much as I can, it’s so unnatural for me to do it on television, in interviews, in anything like that. I also don’t find that my process as an actor is really anyone else’s business.”
Some hundred million years ago a pair of ants from two different species was so preoccupied with their savage battle somewhere on or by a Cretaceous tree in what is now Burma that they failed to notice the oncoming rush of sap flowing from a wound in the bark, maybe caused by a rampaging dinosaur sharpening its claws. They were engulfed and entombed and the sap turned slowly into amber as it lost its volatiles and formed polymer chains. Their gladiatorial moment was thus preserved for posterity, currently incarnated in the shape of the American Museum of Natural History’s collection.