BOYGOD On Reflection I

Feelings pleading to be addressed.

I don't think I wrote a novel. And the reasons why are in these group of sentences directed to a few individuals, who even without a mention of a name, will know who they are.

In regards to the women who invited me to Hollywood and all who was involved in the Aftermath. That night started this entire journey, and now with the same hands who wrote these seemingly endless pages of a book (at least for me), I write now that I would not change anything that happened to us"especially the fuckery that is November 2014.

In regards to the women before that night in November 2014. You all made me feel emotions that are so specific and so different that their necessity was almost tantamount to the need of a man to breathe: whether we were too young to understand liking each other then, or I was too immature to face the fact that you didn't like me; whether you told me that I had a girlfriend and we spoke too much, or I had a girlfriend so we let our friendship die; whether it be me never having the courage to tell you who you were to me, or I breaking your heart and making you feel like you weren't enough; whether it is any of these things, without you and our beautiful ruin, I wouldn't be the kind of man who champions intimate, honest, and romantic expression to the point of making those who don't want to listen hurt"I would't have realized that I fear less what people think about me than what I think of myself"for that, I could never thank you enough. And I hope only one day to be able to look you in the eye and say who you were, and still are, to me.

In regards to the the woman I am with.

“I wish for myself to understand,How a woman weeps inside my hand.She doesn’t know which way to go And She can’t breathe with all my fingers closed.

There, there now. It’s okay little bunny,Just smile for a while and eventually you will see:There is no where else you and I could go

But you in my hand, and I loving you so.”

In regards to the woman whose birthday is today.

Your silence is a consequence I've accepted long ago. But your name still has so much life, always it has so much life; whether it was yesterday, today, right now, or right ever, there is no trying to forget the people who we were"the people we can only remember.

So once again, to all of you, I will say: “This is not a novel. It is an apology for my lack of respect and sympathy towards the women who were, and still is, in my life"it is an apology from a man, who lacked the understanding of the female perspective"it is a cluster f**k of intimate and romantic, yet irresponsible emotional expulsion that I didn't know what to do about... not until now.”

I make this post without hesitation to let everyone know that this is me"this story, a creative non-fiction"and that I dedicate these to the women who taught me that I can love, but also that I could hurt"and that I could hurt a lot. And with sincerity from a man made naked by his own feelings, I truly am grateful. And more importantly, I am sorry.

I realize that this seems a little dark and melancholy... and so I must say: I wrote this with a smile under my ceiling fan's bright light; just thinking about how it was back then, so we can all move forward to what is now.