de Profundis

I'm not usually one to discuss personal relationships when they're going well, possibly because I either don't like to "gush," which is probably just a subconscious psycho-emotional response to wondering how long I must wait for the inevitability of it going all wrong to come to pass, or because I'm aware of how strangely uncomfortable I become when others "gush" at me; a sudden panic sweat induced by my own assessment of how well I think I'm stradling the line between infatuation and stonewalled cynicism, and trying not to let such Maslownian gibberish get in the way of being happy for them. It is a terrible and tiresome thing to be perpetually conscious of one's own potential for connecting with others like unto himself, and worrying, for no good reason at all, over how well he does it. Sometimes I wish I weren't such a thinker.

That said, I received this in my e-mail the other day. Brace yourselves:

Michael,


The exhaustion of a full week is catching up with me today. Hopefully, it will be a smooth Friday at work. I hope you are having an easy one as well.

I find it really interesting to listen to Running With Scissors as I go to and leave work. It incites me to think about anecdotes from my life and about writing them down. I just wonder sometimes if anyone would really find that interesting. I had a somewhat sedate childhood, but I am sure that I could connect with a few people or at least shock them. :-) Do you have a book of memoirs in the creative cranny of your brain?

I hate that I feel that I can be more articulate in writing than in speech. I really want to be able to tell you to your face how much you mean to me---how I grow to love each one of your idiosyncrasies that I discover. So know that, next time I start staring at you, I am trying desperately to find the words to describe what an amazing person you are.

:-)

I made you a CD. I hope that you like it.

See you tonight.

~Patrick

It's amazing how another person's own willingness to share his vulnerability with you, especially when it's about you, changes everything; one single ray of light breaking through the overcast that shrouds the frozen wastes of all that came before, the nuclear winter of my heart's own armageddon, and causing it all to melt away. Is this how it was, oh Lord, when so suddenly the Father rushed upon You in the Jordan, and shook the world asunder with the revelation of His love? Is it odd that I should speak so freely of homosexuality, and yet have my relationship with you as my only basis of comparison? I'm sure I could do worse.

So suddenly, nothing else matters: Ryan's vain treachery and betrayal, his inexplicable removal of my person from what I can only guess is his own emotionally-broken perspective, without a word or warning; the sheer poverty of Ed's own interest in investing in the farce of our friendship (a dramedy no longer in production due to lack of funding); the thousand times a day their memories would mock and stab at whatever resolve I had made for myself that morning, to forgive, to forget, no longer sitting in the solitude of my suburban second-floor apartment laying waste to the wild hours of my youth wondering why it is he doesn't want me. Vanity.

Perhaps what I love most, however, is the way in which he doesn't punish me for wanting to spend time with him, if that makes sense. He's happy to hear from me, in an ear-to-ear-grin-that-illuminates-his-face-when-my-name-lights-up-his-cell-phone sort of way. He doesn't make excuses to avoid me in favor of himself. He wants to see me. I can't seem to find it within myself to say why the notion of other people showing me that they want my company has become of such importance to the way I perceive relationships, but those who know me personally can attest to the fact that letting them know I love them is what defines my very humanity. I suppose it's nice to have that reciprocated, especially romantically.

Anyway, I'm rambling, but I had to write down how wonderful you are to me, Patrick. Even if it should be only for a moment, snuffed out by the cruelty of unseen circumstance, I have you rendered immortal in the Word because you are nothing less than a hero -- everything the ones that came before should have been, and none of the terrible things that they are. I love you, too.

Incidentally, the CD rocks.

Also:

Well do you?