no one calls, no one writes

everyday that city is slipping from my reach, holding less and less of the people i love and more things turn to memories, filed away, dont open until christmas, dusty, basement/attic boxes, curled photographs and brown edged books, letters, things, just things that im starting to feel less and less about.
afton says when youre not physically there you just dont exist and im finding that very true.

one day you were my best friend, the next day you were gone. you dont exist in my life anymore. we are strangers. i cant remember your smell, its faded from most of my clothes, too many nights needed to be washed out. i close my eyes under the shower head in the morning and wish myself back to that place but i cant, i cant, there is a block in my heart, some artery, the vessel that rode the blood, the thoughts of you, the vein that drove you directly through my body, in my skin, in me, has closed. im sorry, i wanted to keep it open but this is the only way i know how. its sad, i didnt feel it. i just woke up one morning and i couldnt feel you anymore. and i cried for hours. not over you, but of the loss, the way my body closed itself off without me knowing. how this will affect my future, how this dulls my eyes and my skin goes dry and i lose weight in funny places and in photos i look old, tired. the magic is gone. you dont call, you dont write.

im learning not to give up. im learning to not take things so personally. some people just arent good at this sort of thing and i understand that. i know its not my fault anymore. i know its not my fault everyones to busy to keep in touch. i just feel that hole in my heart that was open for san francisco, that was filled with all of you, i feel it closing every day. and jo told me that would happen, she warned me. i just didnt realize this is how it would feel. forceful, final and claustrophobic. that city isnt mine anymore. without an address, a home, not even a piece of clothing, not even a book lingers in a room, in a house in that city. ive got nothing there.

but here, in this stupid fucking city that i curse everyday for the ways it pushes me, stresses me out and makes me feel defeated i am making a home. im accumulating things, collecting books, clothes, papers, friends that in months i will leave behind for a new adventure. here, ive got all i own in one room, all my things could fit into two suitcases. i can live on much less, i am living on much much less. and while i think of you everyday, every single day, i dont think of making a home with you. i try not to get nostalgic about the way our clothes used to mingle together in the laundry on weekends, how i used to wash dishes after you made dinner, how we showered together, same shampoo, face wash, soap, toweled off and id wear your sweats in the mornings and make you eggs. that doesnt exist anymore. some girl is living in that apartment now and she never calls and never writes so i dont really know what to make of any of it.

ive stopped thinking about you san francisco. sometimes on the tv a show will come on set in SF and i just turn the channel. you were always so hard to live with, never gave anything back, you took me for granted really. and ive got a new city to live in now. one that might fuck with me, might make me cry, in fact ive cried more in the last couple months than i have in my whole life but it challenges me. i dont feel dead here...not anymore. winter will be over soon and im ready to come out of hibernation i think. this city is trying to wake me the fuck up.

dont get too busy for me. i still need you. i still want you in my life. so please, dont forget to write.