130 days – Necessary it is to live to love

It’s been 130 days since I shaved my head, and my hair is getting long. But this isn’t about my hair. It’s about her. It’s about knowing that I cut my hair when I found out that she had slept with someone else while she was abroad. I ended up spending nearly two hours that day shaving my head. Of course, when a friend of mine saw me later and asked about it, she said, “I hope it wasn’t because of some girl.” I had to admit that one. I’ve never been one to do stupid things, but that’s one of them. I never thought I’d be standing in the library at 10pm with a beanie, but there I was.

You ever wonder what your life would be like if you hadn’t met a certain person, hadn’t let them fuck with your head, so that you’d be left standing by the side of the road at night, talking to your ex on the phone, nearly crying. There’s laughter in this story too, but it comes after all the heartache. The laughter comes after the panic attacks and the depression. It comes after the former love of your life tells you that most of your good work should come from moments of emotional intensity such as this. This coming from a medical student, you’re not apt to believe anything. But you laugh. You laugh, because once, she kissed you at every red light, and it was important. So you laugh, and then you walk home in the darkness, listening to her questions on how to be the one in control of a relationship.

How can you save anyone but yourself? She’s all I ever write, and as I know from experience, you write what you know. Not the she that is a medical student, but the other, the one I called JJ, when I tried to give her a nickname. It didn’t stick – too familiar, too childlike, and god knows she isn’t a child, even when she acts like one.

130 days have passed, and I’m at an impasse. The only solution I’ve found is to forget her existence, which works until I remember how shy she used to be when I would look her in the eyes. She didn’t like that for a moment. It took awhile for her to get used to my stares. And she may not have been a child but she sure looked like one with her four foot eleven inch frame.

I forget how long it has been since we saw each other, and maybe that is for the best.