July 4th, 2005

(no subject)

The other day we hiked to this secluded rock beach, 40s in hand and ready to start our nights early. We sat on our private beach, me, Ben, and Sam, enjoying our 40s and the gorgeous view of the water, the mountains, and the sunset. It was truly a spectacular way to enjoy my favorite beverage with two of my absolute favorite people.



(no subject)

Here's to You, 802.


Here is the honest truth: I can't leave you. I love you far too much to make the amazing memories I've made with you and then just duck out like it's no big deal. I love you far too much to pretend that my departure is just another phase in my life that I have to overcome. I love you far too much to leave you here in the dust of My Burlington and disappear with only the hopes in my head that you will think about me as much as I'll think about you. I love you far too much to leave without fearing that I will spend every second thinking about how much I miss you, and how much I wish I was there making up the final element of your crew, our crew.

Here is the honest truth: You are the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. You and your crew hit me like a solid brick of luck to the face and I have been cherrishing the scar it made ever since, showing it off and telling the war stories behind it like a survivor of endurace; as much a Vertan as three weeks can make me. You and your crew showed me that friendship can consist of true love, and that finding the group you belong in can make you feel like you're on top of the world. There is no better feeling in the universe than knowing you've found social perfection, and that, my dear, is what you gave to me. You gave me the unrivaled feeling of meeting a group I fit perfectly in. You gave me the unparalleled feeling of spending my time with people who truly appreciated what I bring to them; of hanging out with people that were put in this city in the first place to reside in what is my party. You gave me the unsurpassed sentiment of making true friends that will bless me with their presence and their wonder for my entire life. You granted me feelings of happiness that I had never felt so genuinely before. Feelings so brutally pleasing that I was sure they existed only in fiction stories and big-screen movies; so viciously satisfying that I was certain that such enjoyable friendship was one of the many impossibilities of the world.

Here is the honest truth: I'm afraid. I'm afraid of leaving you because every second has epitomized perfection and enjoyment and all that resembles a perfect bond in this world. We were meant to be friends; meant to spend every waking moment just pondering how happy the other one was and hope with all empathy in the world that they loved us as much as we loved them. We were meant to spend our days together, drinking metaphorical wine on imaginary beaches and blessing ourselves with the knowledge that we were as damn blissful as we could possibly be. I'm deathly afraid of leaving this perfectly organized company, and moving on to bigger things in a place where you will not be. I'm afraid of leaving this zone that has brought me the comfort of a thousand feather pillows in the heat of insanity evenings, and the security of your arm wrapped around my torso as soon as you wake up next to me. I'm troubled by the thought of moving on with my life to a point where you mean anything less than infinite to me, because you have given me nothing but a soild definition of what companionship should be. You and I exemplify everything that real friends should be, like lovers from a story book that do these things for each other simply because we love seeing the other smile to the extent that we do.

Here is the honest truth: I was made for you, and you were made for me. We are like soul mates, brought to the fateful world of Burlington by a fate that promised us that twenty years later, we'd be the best of friends. We are like pieces of the universe's puzzle that fit together so perfectly that the only thing onlookers can do when they see our bond glow is watch in pure envy of our compatability. We are the best of lovers, the best of friends, the best of team mates, and the best of cool's mascots, spreading our presence like a disease that was made to infect the depressed with a pleasure they had never felt before. The bliss you brought to me is unmatched and incomparable to anything anyone has ever given me. The natural alliance you have granted me is a paradise that I am sure will go supreme and unmatched with every single person I am yet to encounter. Something lead us both to Pearl Street Beverage that night we ran into each other, something that shot coins into water fountains, closed its eyes at shooting stars, and blew its hardest on birthday candles for us to become friends, and we raged those yearnings with bottle rockets and our power to amaze. We were meant to be just as close as we are, like prodigies of the wishes of the world. Me and you were born to associate. You were born to appreciate all of my existence, and I was born to love you for it.

Here is the honest truth: I owe you ten thousand thank you's. I owe you ten thousand memories that you can store in your journal forever and look back on whenever you miss me, and I owe you ten thousand rassurances that I'll be thinking of you, too. I owe you ten thousand hugs and kisses and nights of incredible sex for all the mental orgasms you've given me. I owe you ten thousand seconds of wholesome cerebral ecstasy for all the times it dawned on me that I was the luckiest person in the world for having you. I owe you ten thousand thank you's and a lifetime of that pure, unadulterated love that I have for you for just being the you that accepted me. I love you, I love the 802, and I love the luck, the chance, the fate, and whatever it was that lead me straight into this beauty of this relationship. Thank you for the gift of your love.