Failed you, failed me (part 3)

I am just living to be lying by your side...The Rolling Stones

The next time I saw you I was smitten. Bitten again! I will the darkest hells for you. I saw you in shitty pub, in Utica NY. It was at this moment I realized the depth of my love. It never ended. Never knew how. NEVER WANTED TOO! We proceeded to get drunk and somehow we made our way to my building. I watched you seduce a boy in my studio. It hurt, but I stayed composed as I felt everyone dance to The Smiths on the broken pieces of my heart that littered the floor. Slowly the party dwindled down. I was left alone with Robert Smith and a bottle of wine. One of my roommates stumbled in the door, I just fell into her arms. I don't know when the tears stopped flowing. 

The weekend came and it is still in a safe place in my heart and mind. We spent it together. We did nothing but lie about, sip cheap beer, smoke way to many cigarettes, and watched shitty B-movies. Nothing extraordinary, but you were with me. We slept half of the first night together.The thought of sex never crossed my mind. The two of us entwined in bed made me feel complete. I think this hurt you. I am not sure. We never discussed us. I was scared to know what you truly thought of me. We had a great summer. I can honestly say I was happy. You were moving back to Utica, so you moved in with me once again. 

You awoke because you had to use the toilet, but you just walked to the nearest window. I followed you to the window. I looked at you and you were still half asleep. You dropped your shorts and smiled and started to pee. I grabbed a pail a gallon water bottle and held it for you. you finished. I didn't forget the shake. You smiled again kissed my neck and said sorry about your floor. I really thought i was standing at the toilet. I told you it wasn't a problem. People pissing on the floor, in drunken stupors, seems to happen on a regular basis on Hart Street. You hugged me and and our lips met. We kissed briefly. You pulled away and then pushed back in We kissed again. This time when our embrace ended you turned and walked away. You went to the couch across from the bed towards the couch. I went back to bed. 

Before you moved back to Utica my friend thought it would be a good idea to let this drunken slut into my loft. She led him to my bed and left. I felt someone crawl into bed with me, at first I thought it was her. Although I thought I was watching her walk away. Then smell of Jack Daniels filled the air. and I realized it wasn't my roommate. I really came awake as his hand started to slide over my ass. 

“You’re already naked. Did you and S. plan for me to be in your bed tonight?” he said into my ear.
"Don't flatter yourself!"

He reached for me. I pushed his groping hands away.  I quietly but sternly told him asked him to get the fuck out of my bed. I am really not into fucking drunks, especially drunks that don’t turn me on. I am sure that shattered his frail ego. He insisted that I let him fuck me. I insisted he get the fuck out of my bed. Finally, he left. 

We met at the cafe in the building and we talked often. Somehow I brought my being in love with you one afternoon over lunch. He didn't have many kind words to say about you. As I recall you didn't have many kind words to say about him one evening when I told you the story about throwing him out of my bed. 

Needlessly to say it blew my mind that afternoon when I walked in on you two, about to be fucking on my bed. Most disturbing to me was seeing him sneer at me while grabbing your ass. I didn't say anything then. I couldn't. You were just my friend, but still I couldn't be around the two of you pretending to be so domestic. You were like a couple of blind stray cats and the only part the two of you got right was the loud sex that sounded like a knock down, drag out fight. 

I couldn't take it anymore so I moved downstairs to the record store that would never come to fruition once again, instead of talking to you. I ran away from my problem and harbored anger and resentment, I cannot forget to add that I managed to make it all your fault. I am good at making it look like I am always getting shit on. Finally, that asshole moved away, but you told me you were moving to NYC too.

The day came for you to move. You asked me to help by driving you and your belongings to NYC. Of course I said yes, I love you. The day came and I drove you to Brooklyn and your new flat on Driggs.

Unfortunately the next time you see me I am strung out on dope. You came to the building to get some things you had left. I was broke and drug sick. I asked to borrow money. You said that maybe you should buy some things from me because I have enough. This hurt me, made me see where I was headed, but I was bitten by heroin again. This is the point I am trying to make. I always cherished our time together and never wanted it to end. I always wanted you to stay longer than you were able too. I could never get enough of you. The night in the studio is so fresh in my memory it could have happened this morning. As soon as we got to that magic figure of $80.00, I couldn't wait for you do give me the money and go. I had to call my dealer. It was getting late. I started making excuses why I had to leave. I probably said pay my phone bill, one of my favorite excuses. . I am sure you felt the anxiety, the pressure, smelt the disease pouring out of my body, and the burning desire for you to just leave.

You left. I copped. I got fixed, and then I cried. I knew I was lost at that moment. I pushed you away to get a fix. I am so sorry. Please believe me that I don’t want to keep hurting you. I was broken. There are parts of me that are still broken, but for the most part I am better. Now, I continually work at fixing me.

Just a quick thought?

When you look at your forearm do you get sad, angry, or feel nothing at all?

Once again, I lost it all. Homelessness greeted me with her strong open arms. I thought it would never happen to me again, but her I was a dope-sick street junkie, dirty, smelly, and unshaven, with the smell of the streets and one shot away from death pouring off of me. This is how you last saw me on the J train. I cannot write much about this meeting because I don’t remember much. I was gone! Out of my mind. I saw you. I smelled your scent. You sat next to me. You were cordial and I was an ass. I often feel that I am the epitome of social-ineptitude, and that day was the most awkward I have ever felt. I was even hiding behind a wall of drugs that the most brutal interrogation would have never moved me to budge. I am not trying to hide behind the feeling or reaction. I am just stressing a point. No matter what, I still acted like an ass. Your anger is justified, but your hatred…is questionable. It happened. Please don’t throw what we had away on one of bad days. 

Once off the train, I went to cop. I was so upset I tripled the order and just went back to the squat. I wanted to fix up a nice hot shot, but I couldn't bring myself too. I just proceeded to get so fucked I could utter a simple sentence. Still I cried and cried. What did I do?