I hate being angry, it makes me feel helpless and mean. It makes me feel like I'm wasting away every good feeling I've ever had, just flinging them through the window and watching them break. He supposes that he understands everything about me already, he supposes that all of those things he said never occurred to me before I met him, he probably doesn't realize that he really hurt me, and if he does he likely thinks it unreasonable. I don't want to keep thinking about all of this, but it's all I can. He said all of those things that were probably so hard to say, and when someone does that it can feel so good and close, and it did. The sky was getting light, and we had that same waiter, but he'd improved so much, and then he spoiled the whole thing by being awful. I can't remember ever feeling so sure I never wanted to talk to someone again. A few hours earlier at the other place with what are now our friends, I suppose, he kept his hand on my knee under the table and I smiled at his beard, and where did that go, so fast? Afterwards, before he went to get his car, there was a strange while where we just stood there looking at each other, waiting for something, but in the whole world there isn't anything that could have gone in that space and felt normal there.

Everything is disappointing, sometimes.

I don't know if it bothers me more or less that I can't help but worry about him, because of everything he said that was probably so hard for him to say. That man was outside, the one we'd seen the time before, collecting change for a soda he'd never buy. That time he'd said, "I've seen him around for years, he used to hang around over towards Driggs, but I guess this is a better corner." I'd said, "Years? Now I'm going to keep worrying about him," and so he'd said, "He'll be alright," and walked over to give him all of the change he had in his pockets, I guess to keep me from worrying. It didn't, but time did, and what will keep me from worrying now? About me too, because at first he seemed like an alien and now we're too alike, except he just doesn't seem hopeful at all, and I really hate playing pool. I don't even feel like sighing, I just want to call him and slowly shake my head at him, but that isn't how phones work.

I burned my finger last night too, but it doesn't hurt at all anymore.