…The friendship which (he) and I share is invaluable and irreplaceable. Perhaps it is because I place no supreme importance on romanticism that our friendship is my deepest gratification.
In another composition, I wrote these words:
I look not for the ideal because idealistic individuals are often quite disappointed when their "key" is ultimately bigger than the "lock." Instead I give my best and accept life as it comes. My concept of happiness consists of satisfying the mind to achieve emotional stability. I try to look to each day as another chance to grow in knowing myself and my world. My "ideal" would include a total acceptance of life and a perfection of love.
During that period of time, I also expressed with morbid cynicism my inability to dissuade a friend from his use of marijuana. The poem, although somewhat disturbing, projects my hostility toward a habit which claimed sufficient importance that it continued despite my open concern.
1981
Is life (for you)
So dull and meaningless….
Is it so necessary to escape,
To drift from reality,
To pull away
From summer's soft and fragrant breeze,
And mold into a being
Which is not yourself
But rather,
Some distorted orb of existence…
If you so desire
To kill yourself,
Draw your plans…
Burn the grass…
Blow your charred breath
Into the baggy…
And pop it.
Be daring.
Your loss of life
Seems so indifferent.
Why not go out with a roar,
Like the coming of March,
Instead of this infernal,
Everlasting,
Torture.
The suspense is killing me,
And I'm ready for a good show.
I'll applaud…
I'm a good and experienced audience.
I'll be intent (as you)
On your motive.
Can't you get it over
So I can go home,
As usual,
And take off my clothes
And my make-up
And roll my hair…
So I can play Bozo
Tomorrow
Tomorrow
In the great show
Called Life
That never ends
Except for you, my friend.
It was evident in my writing that I harbored discontent. Perhaps this was because I had recognized the elements and images of good relationships. In my written kaleidoscope, I contrasted generalizations with personal experiences; I was aware of what I wanted in a relationship of romantic nature and knew that my current relationship did not have the capacity to fulfill those characteristics. I had been trying to forcibly extract romantic inclinations from within myself and adhere them to primarily platonic feelings. I was not blind; in the brilliant sunlight, I had seen reality, but rather than facing the light or turning my back, I had simply chosen to wear sun-glasses to cut down the glare. For a time it had been the easiest solution; now, with a certain degree of fear, I knew I could no longer deflect the truth.
For several months I continued to drift along, contemplating life's moments and my reactions to them. I had been letting life "happen" without becoming involved in the decisions that were at least partially mine; self-confidence had withered, robbing me of my voice and my ability to decide how my time would be spent.
Toward the end of spring, my personal analysis bloomed; although the flowers, my conclusions, were not delicate things of beauty. I found I had transformed into someone who I disliked, feeding on a tremendous wall of resentment. Since I was not strong enough to simply discontinue the romance, I began to create areas of conflict, tempting him to argue or basting him with his faults. Knowing that he generally avoided disagreements at all costs, I tactfully asked questions for the purpose of testing his genuiness of character and individualism. I tried to induce friction to see when and if he would take a stand, yet he never would. I began to wonder if he possessed any opinions of his own.
Needless to say, the time we spent together was not joyous for either of us. I grew irritated at little eccentricities and habits, sometimes with good reason, and on other occasions, without. Even simple companionship, which I had once valued, became a victim of the blighted romance; as he sought to do everything in his power to maintain the romance, stressing that our problems would pass, I strained violently against his intentions with the hope that our relationship could deflate to the status of friendship. It was a battle that neither wished to lose and blazed ever more intensely through the days because nothing was lost or gained. I was unable to walk away and he refused to shake my hand. There was no room for compromise.