Missing you is a funny thing. Part of it is like having a wallpaper of you on the desktop of my head. Whenever I close everything down to switch tasks, there you are. Hi Jess, I miss you. And other times it is completely, radically different. It's like claustrophobia; you know there's air all around you and you know you can move and you know there's plenty of space and that nothing is closing in but for some reason every sensation is convincing your mind that the world is shrinking and a...

It came to me today that I have no idea how to be miserable. Most of the time, I feel just fine. When good things happen I am happy. When sad things happen I am sad. And the fact that I have loved and lost never seems to register; whatever inner tragedy I have suffered crashes futile against the rocks. I see no difference between my life with and my life without. Except that, at night, I am filled with a frantic energy that might be joy or rage or despair but not something in between-...

There are so many things I can't tell her. It's ironic, because I can tell her anything . Just not everything . You see, she is scared to death of love. This is not an interpretation, she has told me. But that's all right, I told her. Slow is good. Maybe better. The upshot is that all relational issues are dealt with over long periods of time, one at a time. And so they accumulate: I need her to communicate more. I need her to stop attacking the personal preferences that I'm ins...