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Friends


Kim came over last night, drunk from being out with R_. She called me and asked "mag ik bij jou slaapen?" (Can I sleep with you?)

Half-awake, I said "sure, yeah; come over." Kim is beautiful, and I love her.

This page is "chapter 5" of "my first book," a 6-page series I wrote in the summer of 2004 in Nijmegen, and (as of autumn 2014) my only attempt at narrative in web-page form.)

Chapter 6

This morning wasn't so nice. She seemed irritated with me; we talked and argued.

I didn't have to kiss her.... She'd crawled into bed naked. Well, the weather is hot.... We made love for a while.

She wants to be alone. To me that means "available." She could be kissing somebody else tomorrow, innocent as the day is fresh in the morning.

But she said something that sticks. She said "I just want to live."

Sweeter words could not come from Kim's mouth, and my heart crumbles against all resistance. But it's true. For Kim to want anything is a blessing, and I must change the way that I am fighting her.

If we're not together, then we're friends. It seems a simple distinction, when I think of the way it feels. Consequences of troubled complicated relatie zien niet goed uit.


— Sunday August 8, 2004



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