thinking about the Gertrude/Agnes and Jon/Gerry parallels again
imagine a person that completes your fucking being and you only get to meet them once. imagine the one person who can truly understand you and won't judge you for the awful thing the world is trying to make you into, and you don't even get to spend a full day with them.
imagine hearing/reading about this person for years, getting to know them through stories of them and what other people have to say about them. then you finally, finally get to meet them and it's everything because they're right fucking there. And you have to let them go
fucking archivists and their homoerotic Person They Didn't Get To be With
















