July 20th

It's been really weird, not writing for a while, but I've been really busy lately and it's been difficult to find time to do much of anything. Today is my first day off from work in God knows how long, Mark's out supporting a company that is soon to monopolize the universe, but hey, we need lunch and McDonald's is cheap, so I had to kind of cut the whole rant about it and just deal with what I could get. It's rare that we have enough money to have actual hot, somewhat real food, since working in a New York City restaurant, I don't take home much for free, and we usually don't have a lot of money for food unless it's cereal. I thought me working as often as I am would've solved some of these problems, but for some reason, it doesn't seem to be.

Mark thinks that I don't know that a lot of my money is going towards paying for doctors and medicine for Roger. Since Roger won't leave the house, I know that Mark's had a few doctors make very special house calls, since Roger is in such a poor condition. Collins, who writes us constantly and sends us letters about how amazing it is to teach summer classes at MIT and how he can't wait for the fall, has also been sending money for Roger and for us. When I intercept the mail first, I try to send Collins a note that we don't need it and return the money, but he just sends it back with a little more and tells me that just because I want to be independent doesn't mean I have to go hungry. I miss him a lot on days like this, when I'm around the house. At work, I really don't have much time to think about anything going on but work. Work and how Mark is at home, taking care of Roger, and attempting to lie to me about it.

All I really know, since Mark won't say anything and I have to snoop around to get what little information I have, is that Roger's on AZT for his HIV, some sort of anti-depressant so that Mark can leave Roger's room and Roger won't slit his wrists the second Mark leaves, and these special vitamins that Roger only has to take once a week to keep healthy, since he's still not eating as much as he used to and food in the loft is always scarce or probably not the best thing for someone as sick as he is to be eating.

The funny thing is, as much as I hate Roger for how he's acting and what he's doing to mine and Mark's relationship and in general what an asshole he's been to me while we've known each other, I honestly wouldn't care that most of my hard-earned money was going towards keeping him alive if Mark had just came to me and talked about it. As much as I think Roger's a selfish bastard, he's Mark's selfish bastard, and I can't be selfish enough to think that Mark just needs me to survive. Mark needs Roger, and I want Mark to need me because he needs me to keep Roger healthy. And of all people, I find it so difficult to understand that Mark didn't come to me in the first place. Does he think I would've denied him? At this point, I wouldn't deny him anything. I'm getting so desperate to have a relationship with someone who cares about me again. I'm even blowing off all of the people, both men and women, who have been hitting on me at the Life. For him. But I miss him and I need someone, and I don't know how much longer I can do this. Usually I would've already cheated on him several times now, most likely with different people, and for some reason, as much as I want to be vindictive and hurt him like I'm getting hurt, I can't. And that scares me. I've never cared about someone that much. I didn't really want to start now, either.

I'm trying as best as I can to detach myself from him and not think about how much I miss him, which is partially why I work so much. It's not working as well as I planned.

We had sex a few weeks ago, I think it was actually after my last entry. I was a totally different person…because I was getting what I wanted finally; I just let Mark do whatever he wanted to me. I let him take control and I was a little more submissive, something that's difficult for me, but he likes. We just kissed and ran our hands down each other's bodies for a long time, like he likes. This time, I actually really wanted that. I wanted it to last, I wanted to feel like Mark was there and cared about me and it was real. I let him give me a hickey, something I usually do to him. I was at times tender, and then a little more passionate. I never got over the top because I wanted him to be happy. I wanted him to stay.

I got on my knees for the first time and took him into my mouth. Not the best experience of my life, but it kept Mark around for a while. We stayed locked in our room that whole night. And I was okay with doing all of these things because I needed someone and I needed Mark. I don't like needing someone. But still, sex and sexual things like that, and doing them for someone so that I can have a good time and not feel so alone, whatever. I'll do it, I really don't care. Where I really shocked myself was when he entered me and I started crying.

I would never, ever say that out loud. I cried during sex. I should be shot. I mean, the last time I cried was my first time when I was seventeen, and that's because it hurt like a bitch. But after having sex a lot since then, and never crying since then, I hated myself. I hated knowing that I cared so much about having Mark with me. I hated that I had done all of those things to make him happy. I hated that I was vulnerable because I wanted more out of a relationship. I hated that I had real feelings for Mark.

It's been about two weeks still then and I can't bring myself to really want sex now, because I'm afraid of what I'll do. As much as I've been getting a tiny bit more attention from Mark (which may be attributed to me not being home as often or to the great sex, maybe both), and he's made it clear that another experience like that would be welcome anytime, I don't think I'm ready for that yet.

I'm just still trying to fathom how the hell I became so attached. I'm not that kind of person.

…Gotta go. I just heard Roger's bedroom door open, and I need to go watch him and make sure he doesn't try to throw himself out of the window of the loft or anything.

Later…

Fuck.

Today has really sucked. And it sucked this morning, when I had to think about my life and was missing Mark and being all not myself, but naturally, it had to get worse. It had to.

First, I left mine and Mark's bedroom (which Mark hasn't slept in since the last time we had sex, I'll have you know) to go see why the hell Roger could possibly be leaving his bedroom, besides to go to the bathroom. I come out of our room just in time to see him halfway shut the bathroom door behind him, so I figure that he's just using the bathroom and I should leave him alone. But there was something in me, telling me to stay for a minute and just check on him, which is weird, since I don't usually like checking on Roger, but I wanted to.

Good thing I did, since he was fucking attempting to shoot up in the bathroom. After all that Mark and I have fucking done for him, what does he do? Tries to fuck us over. And comes very close to succeeding.

I was standing outside of the bathroom door when I heard the water start running, and I wanted to pull a Mark and you know, make sure he wasn't trying to drown himself in the sink or anything, so I look in through the half open door and what do I see, but Roger holding a syringe to a large vein in his left arm.

My natural first reaction was to scream bloody fucking murder, which caused Roger to drop the syringe on the floor. I went flying through the open door, screaming at him. "ROGER FUCKING DAVIS! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU IF THE HEROIN DOESN'T DO IT FIRST, BECAUSE YOU ARE A FUCKING INCONSIDERATE FUCKING SELFISH FUCKING ASSHOLE WHO DOESN'T EVEN DESERVE TO BE FUCKING ALIVE WITH PEOPLE LIKE FUCKING MARK AND ME TAKING CARE OF YOU! FUCK YOU!" I completely lost it. Tears were streaming down my face and I had succeeded in kicking the syringe behind me out of the bathroom door and into the hallway, and I had successfully pushed Roger up against the wall and was beating my fists on his chest. I just couldn't believe that he was really doing that to us. After everything, that Roger was still going to try to fuck us over. It just made me so angry and upset and disappointed and worried and so many different things and I was reacting in ways that showed every painful emotion I was feeling.

Roger grabbed my wrists to keep me from punching him and looked me in the eye. "What the fuck are you gonna do, Rog? Are you gonna fucking hit me? Why don't you fucking kill me so you can get your fucking hit! DO IT!" I screamed in his face, tears still flowing freely and my body shuddering from sobs and the thought that Roger might really hurt me.

He dropped my wrists and my arms fell to my sides, and he pulled me into a fierce hug and started crying. We sank down to the floor, me resting in Roger's arms, and just sobbed on each other. Roger's vulnerability was overwhelming me and I just couldn't take anything anymore. We stayed like that for a long time, until I pulled away and helped Roger up.

"Mark will be home soon," I observed. "I'm not going to say anything about this unless it happens again. This better be the last of the smack you even have in this house. Is that clear?" I asked Roger as I walked to get the syringe from the hallway and empty its contents into the toilet.

"Yeah. That's the last of it." Roger said, splashing some cold water on his face before leaving the bathroom and returning to his room.

"Maureen?" he said, before shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah?" I asked, drying my face with a towel so Mark wouldn't suspect that I had been crying.

"Thanks…for everything."

I'm angry at Roger for what he did. But not as angry as I am when he's vulnerable, because then I pity him and show emotions and fall for it. Like I did today. I know I should tell Mark about what happened, but I won't.

And the awkwardness in this apartment is getting worse and worse, in this sordid complication of relationships I have with my recovering junkie roommate and boyfriend who loves him more than he loves me.

I need to sleep.