MCP

I want to write something, but I feel blocked. Held back, I suppose, by some inexpressible, inexplicable feeling.

The first person I loved - we can argue about the ability to experience or understand love at sixteen years old later - was in prison. Now, he is out, I presume. The Virginia Department of Corrections lists him with "Virginia Beach P&P" - Virginia Beach Probation and Parole. (I looked it up.)

I want to reach out. I'm not sure what that would accomplish. There are a few things I could say:

I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I gave you $1200 of graduation gifts that helped you fund your up-and-coming drug dealing enterprise. I'm sorry that I allowed you to do things that I knew were wrong, that I knew you could get in trouble for, that I knew would hold you back from your true potential.

What the fuck? Why couldn't you just accept how you felt about me? Why couldn't you be honest with me and with yourself? That might have saved us both a lot of trouble. That might have kept you from abusing drugs to escape your true feelings. That might have kept you out of jail.

I hate you. I hate you for making my life so difficult for three and a half years. The way you treated me was completely unfair, sometimes verging on abusive. You caused more turmoil in my life than I care to remember. You made me lie to my family, friends, and to myself.

What happened? Sometimes I went weeks without hearing from you. I didn't know where you were. Everything was so secretive. How did you go from smoking weed out of an elephant bong in my car to becoming a D-List drug dealer, one who preferred jail time to turning in his supplier?

I love you. I will always love you. As much as I don't want to, it is impossible not to love you. It is impossible not to love the first - the first person to open your eyes, the first person to accept you for who you are, the first person to make you feel like life is worth living.

What I would say to you today is very different from what I would have said to you two years ago, when I first found out - that's for sure.

Welcome back to the world, Matthew Clay Pot. Names have been changed to protect the transient.