don’t you love me anymore? i just want you to look past what you perceive as hunger; immerse yourself in your work. but, as is often the case, in order to do the really fun things that we want to do, we have to build up to it with a series of seemingly inconsequential acts. If we don’t believe in ourselves we might find ourselves using food as fuel to continue—and, also, to change the channel. Of course i loved my Alex, but why was she doing this to me? The internet was confusing me—showing old pictures of my love when she was twenty pounds lighter, and making me wonder what’s going on—why is this change taking place? Why is she doing this to me? So i felt like an idiot all over again—once for thinking that she’d remain forever thin, and once for thinking that i was out of line for having reservations about her weight, and once again for convincing myself that, no, she, in fact, had not been gaining weight over the last two years.
Nonetheless, i was hooked on her voice, and i’d already defined my future orphan to look and sound like Alex, so it was going to take a little more than twenty pounds to make me try and replace that with something else. It wasn’t worth it—i’d never find someone that i wanted to befriend more, someone as talented as her and someone that aligned with my politics. I concluded, until i knew better, that the way i saw her would change as we continued to grow closer—but, for now, i was a little frustrated that Alex, in fact, as a human being, wasn’t perfect—her appetites were taking control. I was well aware, however, that a lot of people gain weight in their thirties—i know i did; when i was around her age i was, at times, thirty pounds heavier than i am now.
Instead of trying to shut that person down, however—the one that wanted to eat when there was work to do, i applied myself to everything that took my mind off my misgivings—everything that would have prevented me from becoming one of the greatest artists that ever lived. AOC, i hoped, would defeat Chuck Schumer and become a senator of New York, if not becoming the president. That would’ve been great progress, and I really think she could win—if, that is, she wasn’t chosen, in the primary, to run for president. That particular title would’ve gone to Gavin Newsom—and i liked his politics, too. But AOC was my friend and confidante, if, that is, she’d still have me, now that i was asking why she had gained so much weight. I happened to think that her chances were better if she at least didn’t gain any more weight than she already had—which, sadly, might mean, if she was aware of this possibility that no baby AOC’s were going to be running around in the white house.
Was I backsliding? Had I achieved some success at getting AOC’s attention—or at least pointing her in what i believed to be a good direction, a direction that, incidentally, included me? if I had then you might say i was backsliding—somehow trying to sabotage what would otherwise be a healthy relationship—and, considering that I don’t have many of those, i figured i might want to ask myself that. So, was I backsliding? Was i pushing back when something good happened? i don’t think so, since, i’d been misled by a wide array of photos of AOC published on social media, many of which must have portrayed what she looked like a year or two ago.
This, no doubt, was an impediment, and I knew that, in speaking my mind, and or my reservations, the relationship would either get stronger or dissolve—although this would have no bearing on how i felt about my orphan—the one that i’d named, explicitly, AOC.
So what did AOC have to say about this? Nothing? i don’t know why i’ve gained weight—i mean, i know, of course, that i’ve been eating more, but i don’t know why Me: “Would you know why you were eating more if you stopped eating more? What is it that you’re avoiding—or what is it that you should be avoiding, such as intrusive thoughts—or even this affair?” But that was a little unfair—the mere fact that we were talking through some future channel—and that the future, although subjunctive, for a time, ends up being a part of the past perfect—meant that we weren’t doing anything wrong—somethings were bound to happen—as long as we didn’t abandon our connection, and, even if we did, the path that we should find ourselves on then will be the right one—if, that is, we keep our ear to the ground.