November 16, 1992 • Seattle • فيزا
I've just gotten back home from one of my tireless, endless, high duty, Seattleite days... and, 7:15PM on the clock, all I want to do before running myself a shower and cooking myself something that will keep me going until tomorrow at lunch, is check my voicemail to see if Sean has left me one of his usual silly, perhaps singing notes. It's been almost two weeks since I left him and took my own way, and these days, the closest I can aspire to get from him (of course, if I don't plan on fucking myself up in the head even further for him, getting back on the road and all the cool stuff), is to enjoy the very random chatty, unproblematic, funny as heck moments that we have on and off through the day. If in the beginning of finding our way back to each other, it used to be just silly messages from him and forced silence on my side, as he wouldn't pick up my calls, and as I couldn't leave him messages because he didn't have a voicemail... now he has a voicemail, we're back at talking, and our average phone call doesn't last any less than three quarters of an hour if he's busy.
Honestly, I think it's a miracle that he still wants to talk to me after I dumped him, and I think that it's a miracle too if I'm still able to see the good in him after all the crap he did and said to me. I love him, he loves me even more apparently, I want to be back with him, he wants me back with him at all costs, but I'm honestly more than just fine with taking things easier at the moment, and giving ourselves time to overcome the shitstorm we've gone through. He needs to become a better man, and to get a hold over his mood swings and temper tantrums, at least if he loves me as much as he swears he does. I need to put less of myself into our affair, because I shall never forget that I'm much, much more than just his full time girlfriend and his personal punch bag and crap dumpster when he's in a bad mood/drunk/pissed off/ whatever. I need to hear from him and that's it, at this point... as I've had a shitty shitty day for a number of reasons that I won't bother to explain for now, and he's the only one who could make it better for me. With either a chat, a tone deaf sung melody, a joke... anything goes, as long as I hear from him now, and he helps me get rid of the bitter taste in my mouth as he always does.
I remove my high heels, the ones that I've stolen last Friday from a fashion photoshoot I did in San Fran, and I sigh with relief as soon as my bare, cramping feet touch the floor of my living room. My living room yes, but not for long, because I'm getting evicted in two weeks, and so far I have packed most of my stuff, but I still haven't been able to find myself a new apartment that wasn't ridiculously overpriced, in all of West Seattle and then some. I sigh with a little bit of apprehension, because I'm not fond of the idea of having to become homeless and join the already immense gang of homeless in this city... and I head to the landline phone. I come to the realisation that maybe I should just call my parents (do I even have a mother anymore? Asking out of pure curiosity, as I haven't heard from her in a month now) and ask them advice on how to reduce my chances of becoming homeless within just days, because in all of this, I haven't even told them that I'm getting evicted ... but when the device tells me that I have a new message in my voicemail, rationality and common sense quit my body, and I just keep my fingers crossed that it's Sean. Because if it's him, I'm gonna be able to forget about the shit happening in my life by just simply hearing the sound of his voice, and listening to what kinda sorcery of a joke he's left in my voicemail for the sake of making me laugh. I press the 'play' button on the hardware of my phone, and within just a few seconds of hearing Sean 'sing' me Round and Round by Ratt, and at the same time blessing the fact that my feathered baby is sleeping because he would've gone insane if he heard papa's voice... I'm in fits of laughter. He wasn't joking when he told me he would've sung me a new song everyday until I'd get back on the road for him, kiss him, shut him the fuck up and end the singing hysteria once and for all ... and I had a point, when I called him Steve Perry. He doesn't have the best singing voice, far from that, but he has all of the sleaze rock tunes down... and apparently, he's much better at repping Stephen Pearcy than at repping any other singer he's repped for my amusement so far. And 'round and round, with love we'll find a way, just give it time' sounds very appropriate for our current situation, I gotta say. We have plenty of love for eachother in our hearts, but the love he's singing about wasn't enough to keep us going. See the miserable way I've had to end our romance, because his way of loving me was far too destructive on me, and breaking my personal belongings and throwing a makeup case in my face most definitely wasn't love on his side. We need time to figure out what we want from eachother, and if we can better ourselves for the sake of being together. Loving someone isn't easy, it takes a lot of mutual understanding and changing for the sake of adjusting to the flaws and virtues of the person you love... and I want to do it for him. With him, and him only. Because the more days I spend without him physically by my side, the more I realise that I expect no more and no less than what he is in my life. I look around, push away creeps hitting on me because it's only him that I want, and I want him so bad I'd even take all of his flaws and learn how to cope with them. And if he's here now, singing me a sleazy rock tune of the last decade just mere moments before getting on stage and playing his hundredth gig within just days, it's got to be because he feels about me the same way I feel about him. Relieving thing to find out... but at the same time oh so heavy on my already weighed down heart.
