Everybody Gets it in the End

Last night I watched the film "Shortbus." I find myself at a loss for words; the film was amazing.

Lately I have been feeling more fucked up. My mind has been caught in knots of misfiring synapses, my mylar sheeth a big sheet of peanut butter. My OCD has been acting up. I have been feeling restless or listless or anyother "less" that makes one feel disconnected.

But last night was good.

I feel like I cut down another barrier in my life, another one of those invisible obstacles that stand so cyclopean. The kind of barrier that can only be removed through force of will; or through removing a barrier within yourself.

Drew and I talked. Words I have wanted to say poured out like rivers of slime and drown her apartment. We swam in the mirk and we enjoyed it. Fear and saddness and feelings of inadequacy met headfirst in a cacophany of love.

I have never met anyone like Drew. She is, in many ways, my antithesis. Together we create harmony. From each of our thesises we create a new thesis. A synthesis. I don't know what the future holds for us, but for the first time I feel "okay."

And then we watched "Shortbus." Which, coincidentaly, is a film about these very barriers that must come down for people to be complete. It is as much a film about fear and vulnerability as it is about the human condition. We are all fucked up. Every last one of us contains foibles for days and years and centuries. For miles and kilometers. We contain these imperfections and bash ourselves against them in fear and anger and frustraition. But, if we truely try, in the end we all get it. Everybody. Everybody gets it in the end. Even if there never really is any end in sight.

Love you.

Me.