Matthew’s death feels like a punishment that continues to elude me. My mind is fixated on him and isn’t allowing me to think about anything else; even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. The way I see it now, the night of the shooting was a sacred ritual during which part of his soul transmigrated into mine. Now, his body is gone but his spirit remains within me; I can feel a feeble trace of himself living inside me.
I was supposed to spend the weekend with Lance in New York but he had to cancel last minute due to a medical emergency. I went anyway. I’ve never been to his apartment in midtown.
Matt freed me from the repressed life I was leading: a life of crime and doing things normal people wouldn’t normally do to satisfy my own needs which always made me feel guilty; a horrible human being. I was hard on myself for not being strong enough to keep my impulsive and hurtful urges under control even when people didn’t think twice about being deceitful and hurtful towards me. I judged myself too hard for having a dark mind. There’s also the desire and pleasure of pain. He took away the awful perception I had of myself and instead he gave me acceptance, something nobody else will ever be able to give me. And now, trying to get over him is like trying to get over a cold; there are steps you can take to reduce and eliminate it, but ultimately the body will get over it on its own accord — or maybe not.
I used to mostly think about killing myself and sex. Now, I only think about him, all the time. I’m more titillated as I’ve ever been knowing how much he wanted me. I remember the night he showed up at the hotel to win me back. I wish I knew how to be with someone with an unhinged mind and sordid history. If I did, he would’ve still been here with me.
I spent the whole weekend speaking my impure thoughts. The vast empty space allowed it. Being alone for an extended amount of time allowed me to compartmentalize and understand my feelings. Matthew’s death made me want to stop living, yet somehow I keep going. I simply can’t bring myself to put an end it.
In my journey, I’ve passed both pleasure and pain and learned I must move forward again and again. Hanging on to things or forcing things to move forward only causes more hurt.
Felix Eberstark 