i'm in the shower, trying to have a think, trying to will myself to cry, to dispel the black cloud that's been over me all day.
because there's this shitshow going down in london, in which i am merely a bit player in an off-stage role. but it has nonetheless, temporarily, undone me-- destabilized so much of my sense of myself in the last three years.
and i want to tell everyone i know this story, because i cannot write about it because it is not mine.
so i text EL and i think i'll call AD and it isn't until 2 in the afternoon, when i take shower solely in the hope that maybe, in the shower, i'll be able to cry, that i realize, actually, the only person in my life i want to talk to in that moment is donovan.
isn't that funny?
isn't that so fucking tragic?
that he's been dead for seven years.