hallelujah
i was nineteen, going on twenty, and in a long, dry relationship. nobody is supposed to be in long, dry relationships at all, much less a nineteen year old.

loneliness wasn't such an issue, but i think i tricked myself into thinking james left a void. there were so many things imperfect about him, so many things i expected and needed, but didn't receive. under normal circumstances, it was a void, but i used it. it was nothing more than a rationalization.

we might kiss
when we are alone
when nobody’s watchin’
we might take it home

i met d on a beautiful spring day. his san diego padres had was slightly too big, and it made him look geeky and cute at the same time. james and i weren't doing very well, and he was getting ready for a stint at a dot com in san francisco. we weren't on a break, but i had checked out.

d and i clicked. we started spending our time together, and before long, there was cuddling on the couch during a cheesy eighties movie and "accidentally" falling asleep and spending the night together.

we began a long, hidden romance. looking back, i have no idea how i did it, how i pulled it all off without a) being found out, and b) crumbling.

we might make out
when nobody's there
it's not that we're scared
it's just that it's delicate

when i did happen to see james, i was cold. guilty. the cloud of being satisfied by the love of someone else hung between james and i. shadows, cast on both of our faces, revealed themselves through complete sexual and emotional shut down on my behalf. i developed reflexes that plagued me long after this storm settled, reflexes that make me flinch when i'm touched and, for a moment, i try to figure out a way to get this person away from me without really revealing how i'm feeling.

so why d’ya fill my sorrow
with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known

despite d actually telling me that i was in the process of hurting him, it really did take me five years to realize that i wasn't the only one suffering. i was so self-focused, so fixated on the fact that my life was so complicated when in truth, i didn't even deserve to have one person want to be with me, much less two.

why d’ya sing hallelujah
if it means nothin’ to ya
why d’ya sing with me at all?

i began telling d i was falling in love with him. actually, i was already there. the most fucked up feeling in the world is to then turn around and say "i love you" to someone else.

we might live
like never before
when there's nothin’ to give
how can we ask for more?

we'd spend hours talking about authenticity and the quest for intellect and spirituality and lightheartedness all wrapped up into one handy, witty package. but i later realized that those discussions of authenticity were nothing short of hypocrisy. i thought he was that grounded, perfect person, and i may even have told him so.

we might make love
in some sacred place
that look on your face
is delicate

i was so taken by how important i was to him. he would move mountains for me. d eventually asked me why i couldn't just choose him. i couldn't answer. i didn't choose him, and i must have known that all along. i dragged someone into a whirlwind of void-filling fake poignancy and beautiful moments and we both ended up frustrated and betrayed.

so why d’ya fill my sorrow
with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known

my words were but hallelujahs praising empty temples of comfort and stability, praising false idols of my own happiness. words of dishonesty that broke myself and the lives of two other people. and that makes three too many people for that sort of thing. i have only ever spoken of this with one person before. when d met his soon-to-be-wife, something like a year later, i spent a long night in a tent somewhere with her in utah trying to downplay the whole thing, trying to reduce any raw feelings between us all. it didn't really mean that much to me, i said, musing on how utterly, joyously perfect they were for each other. it's hard to say how honest i was being. it felt like i was lying to her that night, but at the same time, i was still convincing myself that my time with d had been nothing short of using him and betraying him.

but there was a reason to sing with him, i'm sure of it. everything always means something. always.

why d’ya sing hallelujah
if it means nothin’ to ya
why d’ya sing with me at all?