Sometimes we meet someone and the connection is absolutely kinetic. It follows every hollywood diagram of love throttling across each neuron and synapse. That was Jason. He was everything that I was but better, on the surface. He was a DJ, he had a job, he had cool friends and cool clothes and was still earthy and he understood my hippie sensibility. He didn’t judge me and he had a gentle voice. It was kismet. All good things as well as the things we desperately need to be good but never will be must come to an end. That was Jason. Jason was a dervish, a whirling chaotic storm inside and though he tried I suppose he did more damage than good in my life. I cannot forgot him and part of me will love him as one does an old T-shirt or graduation tassel; it serves no purpose but we are too afraid to let go of it, to shed the thing we believe holds our memories. Jason ultimately committed a true act of abandonment, one I have never forgiven; quite possibly because I do not think I have the energy in me to face those feelings. That was Jason. He turned out to be selfish with his love and generous with his hurt.
This came up because I bought him a backpack. A red timberland backpack some 13 years ago. I just washed the backpack and it has held up a lot better than most things do. All the dirt came out and was clean and new again. I want a new backpack but am not sure I can let this one go. That is me; ever unable to let things go.