...Come dowsed in mud, soaked in bleach/ As I want you to be....
I am deliciously clean, coated with the silky scent of a new bath bar, handmade by a lovely woodland sprite. She said it was just a fragrance, a cologne, and shrugged it off. She's amazing. I miss her, yearn for a close relationship with her, with no notion of how to go about that. She's married to a man I count among my top five friends.
He tries to be a parent instead of a friend, which is tough, since he's one of the best people to have as a friend that I've ever met.
He casually informs me that he won't be making it out here come fall. Casually, I try to take the information as something less than a fist to the gut.
Casually, I try to imagine a life without passionate attachments.
It seems pale and colorless.
If equilibrium means giving up the bright, too, I guess I'll live with the black.
(Come As You Are, Nirvana)