The Troll Toll

I’ve been having terrible writer’s block lately and I think it’s because I needed to write this before I could go back to my book. I didn’t know what this was until tonight, but now I’m writing it and don’t know if it’s something I want anyone to read – except one person. I can’t send it to that person though so it may be something that everyone can read so that one person in particular finds themselves in it without looking.

My therapist asked me if there was every any men for that I didn’t push away when I started to feel like I depended on them; yes, just one. He was my best friend in college and we haven’t spoken, not really, since we were 23. I miss him with a large part of me but not romantically at all, but I still miss him.

We were extremely free when we were near each other. I never worried that he was thinking negatively about me because I knew he wasn’t.

I think more than anything, maybe, he knew me. This neurotic, young man, who didn’t know himself, knew me and knew me well. Then we made the choice to actively stop knowing each other. We briefly had feelings for each other but only acted on them once. Still, ending our friendship, hurt more than any of the heartbreaks I’ve felt.

There are few people who you want to console you while you’re mad at them but he was one of them. I cried saying “I just want…” and while I don’t think he cried I have a feeling it hurt him too.

Sometimes when I think back a painful stabbing hits me that perhaps he didn’t know me, perhaps he didn’t feel anything toward me, perhaps he just wanted to use me. Maybe I was the only one who felt the kindred spirit flame against me when he was near. If that’s the case I never want to know, because that doubt has existed too much.

I don’t love him, I never loved him, it wasn’t ever like that. But I did and do have so much love for him. He glows now and the love I have for him spreads to the person, thing, moment that makes him glow.

Doubt burns against me more often than the flame of kindred spirits and that doubt guards the bridge to a lot of my brain. So this conceited, rambling, essay that used a lot of commas (on purpose) is my toll to that troll to let me through. I don’t think that doubt is something I want to burn me anymore, thanks.