Still Waiting, Hoping Charles Will Be Well

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After my prior entry, my distractions at an end, I broke down and blubbered and gibbered: tears and meaningless words.

Recovering, I called the hospital. Charles is still in the ICU and I can’t go sit beside him.

My total incapacity rips and claws into my heart. If I were at his bedside at least I could be Charles’ silent cheerleader. Instead all I can do is sit here and stare into my own mind. A familiar feeling without being less potent gnashing and grinding of yourself.

Long, long ago a good friend remarked the control I had over my life. I laughed denying any control. I thought the way I lived was more like hanging out at a bus stop and jumping on whichever bus showed up first.

A fine way to live when your eighteen, free, ready for sex and whatever happenstance comes your way. Now, I greatly prefer control. Instead my future days lie waiting for their definition, hanging wholly on Charles’ fate. The way it has to be in any partnership.

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Pansexual Sodomite
My Life is an Open Blog
Still Waiting, Hoping Charles Will Be Well
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