He cried over hurting his body with so many substances, and I cried with him, because I’d been hurting my body and soul, too… just in other ways. Including boys.
And after it shattered today and I stared after it and then I gently cleaned it up, I sat down at my desk and imagined looking for a mug that’s somehow indestructible… but I realized then that, even if it couldn’t break, I could still lose it.
And while James is clearly better at playing chess and having a cool mustache and riding his bike uphill for a long time and watching sports, I’m pretty good at other things: spinning words, strumming the guitar, obsessing over rivers, finding good coffee shops… it all balances out nicely.
Back in the car, I kept sticking my hand out the window, feeling the cold air, and then placing my cold hand on my cheek. “This is what’s real,” I whispered to myself, more than once.