Sunday, February 14, 2010


“So I went on alone and even farther
Along the seventh circle’s outer margin,
To where the melancholy people sat.”

I suppose it’s futile, even foolhardy, to try to understand why someone would take his own life.

But I do.

I wonder almost every day now. And when I look around at what I now realize are the facts, I even wonder if he hadn't suddenly found himself so enmeshed in his silky web of lies that he had nowhere to go.

Nowhere to go.

What a thought. He had me, of course. But he had rejected me. Told me, in response to my declaration, that I was attacking him. He could get all the love he needed from his male friends, he said. They were the ones that mattered.

But he wasn’t gay, and no, there was no reason why we should stop seeing each other. He wouldn’t say he loved me, he wouldn’t say he didn’t, he simply wouldn’t say. And I was to blame for his lack of verbiage. I made him feel trapped-but I wasn’t to see anyone else. And nine months without any physical contact was not abnormal. He said. He said. He said.

To be continued......