The Loneliest Year: Part Twelve

February 2021

On the anniversary of the day that Jesse moved out—the last day I saw him in person—I woke up and sobbed.

I tweaked my lower back muscle writing poetry in bed all weekend, and my angel friend, Tina, brought me IcyHot, Bayer Body and Pain, and some sweets.

My bisexual neighbor broke up with his girlfriend, so I made him a little gift bag to lift his spirits and left it outside of his door.

I submitted six poems to The New Yorker, and four poems to Poetry Magazine.

Cesar texted me that he wanted to move in, and I was thrilled.

I went to my dentist for a cleaning. No cavities. Whoot.

I read for two casting workshops, and each casting director said I was “an excellent reader.”

I went for a walk with Phyllis, and she and her husband gave me tangerines from the bush in their backyard.

I did an ambitious recording of a choral arrangement of “And I Love Him” where I recorded a video of myself singing all six parts from bass to soprano.

It took a full week of wrestling with sound-mixing and video-editing to complete it, and I hated every moment of the process. It turned out beautifully, and all I felt was sadness once it was done.

So Far, So Close premiered on Dekkoo, and my performance was well-received.

I hung out with my bisexual neighbor, and we just listened to music and chatted without having sex.

I started waking up at 5 AM again, so sad that I couldn’t get back to sleep. One morning, in the shower, I broke down crying and fell down to my knees, asking God to help me, because it hurt how much I still missed Jesse.

The night before Cesar’s move-in date, I went to Trader Joes to pick up some vegan snacks for him and some banana bread I knew he liked. While I was putting away the groceries, he texted me that he’d changed his mind. Of course. Nothing surprised me anymore. That night, I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering if I’d ever catch a break.

The next day, Cesar asked if we could work out, and we hung out for a few hours. Not only did we work out, but I got to take some photos of him with my digital camera. And I was grateful for the time we shared.

The next day, I texted him to have a good day, and he texted me "Happy Valentine's Day" with a bunch of hearts. As someone who wasn’t supposed to celebrate holidays, he was a terrible Jehovah Witness, but a good friend.

In the evening, I ordered a steak dinner from Sizzler, and I had a $1 box of chocolates. The same small box of Elmers chocolates I'd bought myself for years. I was too sad to enjoy any of it.

Later, Cesar texted me that he appreciated me a lot, and he was inspired by how I channeled my sadness into creativity.

I received a bill for the rest of what I owed for the CT scan, and I mused how cheaper it would be to just die instead of trying to stay alive. Then, shortly afterward, I grew depressed looking at how high one-bedroom prices were, and I went to my room to cry in bed.

I started watching season two of Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist.

I composed some wonderful poetry.

I wasted hours creating different cartoon avatars of myself on a website.

I went on an hour and half walk with my dear friend, Jimmy Fowlie, and I marveled at the different ways love could present itself.

I recorded some ADR lines for the web-series Coasters written by my friend, Doug Rogers.

One evening, GrubHub cancelled a dinner order after I’d already picked up it. The next day, I went back to the restaurant to pay want I owed, but the chef wouldn’t take my money, so I bought $11 worth of cookies and tipped him $10. He also threw in a free brownie and said there was good karma coming my way. Dear God, I hoped so.

I saw a Facebook post that claimed that the song that was #1 on my 7th birthday would predict how my 2021 would turn out. Mine was “If Wishes Came True.”

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Part Thirteen:

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Note from the Writer

This is part twelve in a thirteen-part essay series that details my year in quarantine from March 15, 2020 to March 15, 2021. If you enjoyed this essay, I hope you'll add a heart and continue reading the other essays in the series.

Tips are not mandatory, but greatly appreciated.

Thank you for reading.