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what a wonderful charicature of intamacy.
by patricia okeefe
Dripping disconsolately through the thin layer of leaves above me, I could feel the acquiescent rain on my head. Silently it was screaming, “Failure!” I hung my head in indignity, hands covering ears, as I hurried to my studio apartment. Placing the key inside of the cold, metal lock, I pushed open the door, slipped inside, and leaned into the inner to close it, slowly melting to the floor. EXHAUSTION. Gleaming through streams of dust suspended in the window, I could see the exterior, into a world I no longer wanted to be an element of. REGRESSION. I missed her so much. I had felt sympathy for her, empathy with her, and apathy after her. But now I was no longer sympathetic, or empathetic, or apathetic, but simply pathetic. I closed my eyes and leaned my head into the back of the door, a solitary tear escaping from the corner of my eye. I brushed it away along with the memory held in it. I could not go on forever like there was nothing to life but her. I just couldn’t. I opened my eyes, the sun beaming in and onto the floor in front of me. I looked around at the place that I called home, seething with its unfamiliararity. I longed for the proverbial glints in the eyes of a departed lover. The kind of refuge I could not get through any girls’ eyes but hers. Mounting to my feet, I felt the blood rush back into my now anesthetized legs, trembling and weak. I could hear the wind whistling gently through the cracks embedded in the contemptible walls of the building. New York was not where I wanted to be right then. I pushed away the dust as I laid down on the floor of the diminutive bedroom. I never wanted to wake up unless it meant waking up with her at my side. I cried until I could cry no more, gradually drifting in and out of sleep. I dreamt of her smile, of her flowing hair. I dreamt of soft rain falling onto even softer pallets of skin on her face, glowing and smiling. She danced in silence as I watched her, reaching out but never to touch her, just feeling her presence in the palm of my hand. I awoke with my hand outstretched to the door, reaching for interaction that I could never have again. O, god, how I did miss her. I wondered if she knew that. If she knew that I missed her and loved her dearly. Then I came to the realization that if she felt at all comforted by my embrace, suicide would not have been categorized as salvation in her beautiful mind. I told her that I loved her. I told her I was sorry. I apologized for never being her safekeeping when she had so willingly been mine. I reminded her of our dreams together, and told her how foolish I was to never follow through. With each word, I became more and more unraveled. DEPRESSION. I rolled onto my back and stared up at the crumbling ceiling above me. The weight of time and neglect had taken its toll on the roof, as well as on my love, and I felt utterly hopeless. “Oh, my dear, what did you do to deserve this?” She could have had… should have had so much more. I had never given her the love or the material possessions she deserved. I never walked with her or simply talked to her because she wanted to. She cleaned and cooked as best she could… I can’t even remember a time that I thanked her. The tears break away from their watery beds in my lower eyelids. REGRET. I pressed my hands into my eyes and shook my head, trying to unnerve the memories and the cabarets imprinted in my skull. Forgetting something so intricate would never be more difficult. Like a web of thought that was twisted and maneuvered throughout everything that I performed, I could not erase the reminiscence of her. I glanced over at the door that had been left ajar. It, like the rain, was mocking me for my unaccomplishments. I’ve never finished anything in my entire lifetime. I didn’t know how I felt anymore. Was it lethargy, or misery, or was it the foundation of a demise equal to hers?—suicide. I shuddered at the thought that I might not make it through the next week, the next day, the next hour… My breathing increased rapidly and I clenched my fists, burying my face into the pillow on my floor. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to remember the razor in my shower, didn’t want to remember the extension cord in the closet, didn’t want to remember her. But the more I tried to forget her, the more vivid her smile and beauty grew in my memory. I shook my fist to the ceiling, then beat it on the floor. I cursed her for leaving me, for making me miserable… I was an emotional disarray of confusion and discord. I sat up and pushed my elbows onto my knees, leaning my face into my palms. What was I supposed to do today? I had no job, I had no family nearby, I had nothing but her. The sun peeked through the small slit in the doorway and wrapped itself over my thin legs. I had never taken the time to actually examine the luminosity of the light like I did then. I saw every beam, every infinitesimal collection of blues, reds, yellows, and whites. I saw them dance across my skin, sparkling. I touched it, and it was warm, now skimming gently across my fingers. I held it in my hand then dropped it, watching it sink into the carpet. Besides her eyes, I had never seen anything so stunning. It made me smile, but then I cried because I knew I shouldn’t be smiling at such a time as this. But then I knew she would want me to, and I stopped crying and I smiled and I told her I loved her and I was sorry for cursing her and things were really hard now that she was gone but I didn’t want to ever forget her. I depicted the sunlight being her, and I closed my eyes and imagined her face as I once again held it in my hand. SERENITY. Things have been equally as difficult since she has gone. It’s been almost three months and I still haven’t left my apartment except for the occasional dinner. I spent my days thinking about her and missing her and writing love letters to her, and I spent my nights dreaming about her and talking to her in my sleep. I’ve gotten less bipolar about it, I’ve learned to control my emotions. But the control still doesn’t bring her back to me. I don’t think that if she knew how much I would hurt, she would have done it. If she knew how much I missed her, she wouldn’t have jumped. I received a letter this morning. It was a notice of eviction. I was about to break down when realized that leaving this place would be the best thing for me. I couldn’t stay inside of this place forever, hoping she’d come walking through that door just once more. My mother called me and told me that she was coming to get me. That I couldn’t stay in New York anymore, especially not in the same building that she jumped from. I knew she was right. This entire day has got me thinking about her last moments. The last few seconds when I was still out at the bar, and she stood on that balcony and looked out to the busy street below. What she was thinking as she climbed to the top. What she was feeling when she began to soar. I suppose I will never know. But I do hope that she thought of me. Thought of me in the best way she could. She was never one to be a pessimist. That was just one of the things that I missed most about her. I walked silently over to the balcony, gripping the bars in my hands. The wind blew up beside me, and pushed my hat off of my head. I watched as it peacefully floated down to the street, then turned away before it landed. The sun was gleaming brilliantly down and reflecting its rays off of the metal bars on the porch. REALITY. It was there that I felt her for the first time since her death. It was then that I could here her voice, feel her heartbeat. I felt her love, her warmth in her embrace. I loved her more than ever and missed her, but for once I wasn’t mourning her. I didn’t need to because she was right there with me. Things continue to be hard, but when everything is at its worse, I can feel her the most. Even though she’s gone, she continues to help me moving forward. That, I would believe, is true love?.
Your Seduction Style: Au Natural
You rank up there with your seduction skills, though you might not know it.
That's because you're a natural at seduction. You don't realize your power!
The root of your natural seduction power: your innocence and optimism.

You're the type of person who happily plays around and creates a unique little world.
Little do you know that your personal paradise is so appealing that it sucks people in.
You find joy in everything - so is it any surprise that people find joy in you?

You bring back the inner child in everyone you meet with your sincere and spontaneous ways.
Your childlike (but not childish) behavior also inspires others to care for you.
As a result, those who you befriend and date tend to be incredibly loyal to you. What Kind of Seducer Are You?