We used to talk about stuff like this, back when we used to talk.

But that period, that honest and open period, it didn't last very long. I think it was too much for her. Too close to the intimacy that she was missing from the rest of her life.

I've been trying to remember the last time I spent more than two minutes alone with her. I bet it's been at least a year.

So we don't talk about anything important anymore. Shit, we don't hardly talk at all.

If we did talk, I wonder how she'd react if I told her she was stupid. I mean, would she take it in the nicest possible way, as it would certainly be intended?

I doubt it. I think she'd get all defensive. And she'd try to justify herself to me.

That old saying just jumped into my head. There but for the grace of God go I.

Well first of all God can fucking suck my dick.

Second of all, I would be doing exactly what she's doing, if only I'd had the chance.

I'd have been stupid, just like she's being stupid. I'd have given all of myself and there'd have been nothing left that I could call my own.

I'm so fucking grateful that I never had that chance.

I wrote once before, that the fucking Beatles may have been right all along. I fucking hate the fucking Beatles. I hate that they were right.

All you need is love.

Technically accurate, yet still so fucking lacking.

(Switching to metaphor-mode now. Try to keep up please.)

I remember when I was 7 or 8 years old, and we got our first color television. My sister Dina and I were so excited, because we were going to be able to watch Saturday morning cartoons in color. It was going to be The Coolest Thing In The World as my cousin Chris liked to say.

Well, it was. It was so much better than black and white that there was really no sense in comparing the two.

But the Beatles? The fucking Beatles would have said that black and white was all we needed to watch our cartoons.

Like I said, technically accurate.

But also woefully safe. Timid. Spineless. Half-hearted.

(Switching out of metaphor-mode.)

I see her. Even when I don't see her in person, I see her in my head. I see her in love with him. I can almost hear the gears in her head turn and grind as they churn out unending platitudes and reassurances. Love is all you need, her brain tells her heart. Don't you dare wish for anything more, because you've already got more than most people ever get.

Like I said, fucking stupid.

She could do so much better. But she thinks that she's got all she needs. And that may be true, but needs are only the beginning.

There should be a place in our lives, in her life, for desires.

I would be exactly where she is. I would tell myself that I was happy. I would tell myself that I had everything that I needed.

Technically accurate, but still so fucking sad.

I watch, as her heart's desires die. Corralled and quarantined and imprisoned by the illusion that all you need is all there is. They die from neglect.

There is so much more than needs. So fucking much more.

I wish I could still talk to her about stuff like this.

But I can't, so she'll have to read it here.