09 Jun 2017 - Like Fuzzy Slippers
Evening, yet again.
Day 105 on Lexapro.
Mood: 7.5.
Yesterday, I met with a friend that I haven't seen in years (I think I'll call him...Kofinsa), to catch up. While waiting for him at the designated meeting place, this odd nervousness began bubbling up. This friend and I have some history - we had a thing for each other around the time when we first met, though that never went anywhere. From time to time, those old feelings still come up, though they're usually tainted with a lonely veneer these days.
I was worried and nervous for no reason, though. When he finally made it to the meeting place, and when I hugged him, breathing in that familiar scent, it was like no time had passed between seeing each other at all, like putting on your favorite pair of house shoes that you'd forgotten about in storage but still fit absolutely perfectly. We walked down Michigan Avenue for a while, looking for someplace shaded and quiet to park ourselves to picnic. Neither of us brought a blanket to sit on, but that was fine; neither of us mind sitting in the grass. I brought with me a bottle of sparkling elderflower lemonade, two cans of Strongbow cider, and an elote dip. He had homemade tortillas, guacamole, salsa, two dessert dips, and a couple of cups. Kofinsa somehow managed to DIY a cooler using shopping bags and fiberglass insulation; it looked kind of jank-y, but it worked fabulously well. I didn't realize just how much I missed just talking to him, and listening to his stories; his capers and adventures and tales were just as fun to hear yesterday as they were three years ago.
His hair was just as long and flowing as I remember it; I resisted the profoundly strong urge to ask to run my hands through it.
Even though nothing ever came out of the mutual interest, I still find myself wondering how things would have worked out if something had blossomed between us. It's a fruitless, useless activity, of course, since I can't change the past and it's inaccessible in the present, but still, I wonder.
The food was good, but the conversation was better, and flowed so naturally. Kofinsa and I are both science nerds, though in slightly different areas, and much time was spent discussing the applications and difficulties of genetically engineering plants that express pharmaceuticals in their tissue and/or nectar. There was talk of the use of capital punishment, debate over the ethics of robotic augmentation of humans, shared laughter over how ridiculous oystercatchers look.
He doesn't know that this blog exists, so I can speak freely here. I love Kofinsa deeply, and painfully, in a way that I don't think any other person will touch. His demons play well with mine, and my heart aches knowing that I'll never have the opportunity to fully explore what our dynamic could be.
After picnicking with him, I paid my grandmother a visit, partly to give her her gifts from Scotland (a bright red tartan scarf, and a bunch of newspapers) but mostly to just talk. She's an interesting, insightful, witty old woman, and one of my favorite people. Since I was relying on public transport, and constrained by the running times of the bus that goes by my house, I couldn't spend as much time with her as I would have liked, but it was better than no time at all.
At home, I'd intended to pack all my things in preparation of returning to Carbondale, but instead I fell asleep halfway through eating a Honeycrisp.
One more post before I'm up to speed.
Until then.
Day 105 on Lexapro.
Mood: 7.5.
Yesterday, I met with a friend that I haven't seen in years (I think I'll call him...Kofinsa), to catch up. While waiting for him at the designated meeting place, this odd nervousness began bubbling up. This friend and I have some history - we had a thing for each other around the time when we first met, though that never went anywhere. From time to time, those old feelings still come up, though they're usually tainted with a lonely veneer these days.
I was worried and nervous for no reason, though. When he finally made it to the meeting place, and when I hugged him, breathing in that familiar scent, it was like no time had passed between seeing each other at all, like putting on your favorite pair of house shoes that you'd forgotten about in storage but still fit absolutely perfectly. We walked down Michigan Avenue for a while, looking for someplace shaded and quiet to park ourselves to picnic. Neither of us brought a blanket to sit on, but that was fine; neither of us mind sitting in the grass. I brought with me a bottle of sparkling elderflower lemonade, two cans of Strongbow cider, and an elote dip. He had homemade tortillas, guacamole, salsa, two dessert dips, and a couple of cups. Kofinsa somehow managed to DIY a cooler using shopping bags and fiberglass insulation; it looked kind of jank-y, but it worked fabulously well. I didn't realize just how much I missed just talking to him, and listening to his stories; his capers and adventures and tales were just as fun to hear yesterday as they were three years ago.
His hair was just as long and flowing as I remember it; I resisted the profoundly strong urge to ask to run my hands through it.
Even though nothing ever came out of the mutual interest, I still find myself wondering how things would have worked out if something had blossomed between us. It's a fruitless, useless activity, of course, since I can't change the past and it's inaccessible in the present, but still, I wonder.
The food was good, but the conversation was better, and flowed so naturally. Kofinsa and I are both science nerds, though in slightly different areas, and much time was spent discussing the applications and difficulties of genetically engineering plants that express pharmaceuticals in their tissue and/or nectar. There was talk of the use of capital punishment, debate over the ethics of robotic augmentation of humans, shared laughter over how ridiculous oystercatchers look.
He doesn't know that this blog exists, so I can speak freely here. I love Kofinsa deeply, and painfully, in a way that I don't think any other person will touch. His demons play well with mine, and my heart aches knowing that I'll never have the opportunity to fully explore what our dynamic could be.
After picnicking with him, I paid my grandmother a visit, partly to give her her gifts from Scotland (a bright red tartan scarf, and a bunch of newspapers) but mostly to just talk. She's an interesting, insightful, witty old woman, and one of my favorite people. Since I was relying on public transport, and constrained by the running times of the bus that goes by my house, I couldn't spend as much time with her as I would have liked, but it was better than no time at all.
At home, I'd intended to pack all my things in preparation of returning to Carbondale, but instead I fell asleep halfway through eating a Honeycrisp.
One more post before I'm up to speed.
Until then.
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