“I ran into him on the street corner. The last person I thought I would see. He looked at me first. I could see that he recognized me. I wasn’t sure. By the time I had looked over, it was too late- the moment had completely passed where I could ignore him. I had to say hi, to say something.
He recognized me. He had acknowledged me. I felt the rush of something familiar pull on the pit of my stomach. One that I encounter so many times and want to suppress, but don’t. I’d hidden it in the late night escapes, the aliases. This had happened for years. The feeling.
Yet when I’m in it, I imagine. I imagine it’s real though it’s absolutely not. But I seek the affection that I’d never had. A passion faked and pretended, but so much so that it’s real. At least to me. Mix that with liquor and I’m in an altered state of an imagined connection. That’s happened to me. I mistake that emotion the next day with a real one, when all along it was a confused moment.
There he stood, in his glasses. His face familiar, even though I’d only known him for a night. I felt what was all too familiar. A few words exchanged in the extreme heat of midday. All the while, pushing down what I can’t control but carry so much guilt over. He walks away, and I wish I had been the one who walked away. It scares me sometimes that this is the way I know how to connect.”