Gah, the way my heart pounds when my finger accidentally brushes hers, or our feet touch under the table! I jerk back like I’ve been burned, and then some strange force pulls me forward again — everything around me starts spinning…augh! and she’s so unselfconscious and so clueless, she has no idea how all these tiny intimacies torture me. When we’re deep in conversation, and she takes my hand in hers, and in her excitement about the subject she leans in so close that I can taste the heavenly breath coming from her mouth: — I feel like I’m going to pass out, like I was struck by lightning. — And, Will! If I tried to turn that ecstasy, that intimacy into — !! You know what I mean. No, I’m not that messed up! But I’m weak! weak enough! — and isn’t that a kind of messed up?
She is sacred to me. Any lust shuts off when she’s around. I don’t even know how I feel when we’re together; it’s like my soul was twisting around in every nerve in my body. She has a tune she plays on the piano with the most delicate touch, so simple and so soulful! It’s her favorite song, and it makes all my pain and confusion and sadness feel so far away as soon as she sounds the first note.
All those ancient myths about the magic powers of music — I’d believe them all now. This simple song hits me so hard! And the way she always manages to start it up at the exact moment I want to shoot myself in the head! The turmoil and the darkness in my brain dissolve, and I can breathe again.