“I like the fact that you’re not mad about me,
I like the fact that I’m not mad for you,
And that the globe of planet earth is grounded
And will not drift away beneath our shoes.
I like the fact that I can laugh here loudly,
Not play with words, feel unashamed and loose
And never flush with stifling waves above me
When we brush sleeves, and not need an excuse.”—Marina Tsvetaeva
Kerry said to me, “You are a part of the H&H myth; you’ll always be around.” And I like that, but sometimes I wonder. I am not a girlfriend. In theory, I am something more: I am a different, more unconditional kind of love (at the very least, for Rob) and I know that. But maybe that’s just me and Rob. Maybe I am not a part of the music anymore, not in the way that I perhaps once was, maybe I am not someone that new fans will recognize as an old fan, and maybe i will just have to buy a ticket one day far in the future so that I can see my old friends who are no longer willing to put me on the guest list because 10 years ago when I got married and changed phone services we stopped calling one another. Maybe Rob and I will elope and have a friend-marriage because we decided romantic entanglements are too risky. Maybe the band will break up next week. Maybe metal will come back on the indie scene and no one will like americana/bluegrass/gospel fusion with harmonies and they’ll never make another record. Maybe I’ll move to Portland to be a “real” barista and lose touch. Maybe these relationship will somehow become MORE incestuous and strange and we’ll simply have to stop speaking because there has to be some sanity, somewhere, sometime. Who knows.
I need a glass of whisky. Hypothetical time travel in one’s own life is exhausting.