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RebornFlames
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Name: David
Location: Chicago, Illinois, United States
Birthday: 11/2/1986
Gender: Male
Interests: Writing stories, poetry, movies, animals(especially cats), DDR, video games, music(mostly, but not limited to Trance and J pop), mythology, rain, sketching, sleeping, helping people, sunsets, beaches, philosphy, conversation, night, love, traveling (more the idea of, rather then having done so.)
More to come soon...
or is there?
Expertise: Hmm. I'd have to say two things. One, involving people. I'm a naturally analytical person and tend to be able to figure out people...and have been known to give good advice usually. I've kinda always been the "go-to" person most my life.
The other, people often tell me I have a talent with words. Writing. Whether it be poetry, a short story, or simple thoughts / feelings recorded down on paper or typed out.
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  Reborn FIames
Member Since:
9/24/2005
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| I always seem to come back, don't I? Even if it's a few months or a few years I manage to find myself back at the solace of my little world where I get to echo my thoughts. It may very well be a good thing I've let it stew for some time, feeling safer with the knowledge that the very few people who may have had this insight have long since quit checking to see if I updated. That sort of ...freedom to express while knowing my fragile ego will remain unthreatened yet still be able to leave behind my imprint - my legacy lost amidst the seas of the internet. It's not entirely my fault I haven't written in so long. I haven't had a real chance to. It's far too personal of an experience for me, and I haven't had the privacy for some time now. So much has changed...I don't know where to begin. I met someone. I actually had a post about them I meant to put up after typing on word while my net was down...last year sometime. I've since lost it, and I suppose it really doesn't matter anyway. All the things I wrote about them...became untrue. Most at least. I didn't look for anyone. I didn't want anyone...it just...happened. I thought for sure I'd spend my life alone. Forever. I couldn't seek a relationship, nor would I welcome one. I suppose it's the only way it could have happened, really. My father passed. Her mother. We talked, a lot. It all moved quickly and before I could stop to think about what was happening- we were already together. Sounds magical, huh? Maybe. We remained long distance for sometime until she came to visit. The week we spent together went well. We had a good time together, and found out we could work well together. We decided to pursue things further, and made long term plans. Well, that came to a crashing halt. She found god and decided to leave me. Sound familiar? A lot of my writing in this, has been centered around what to me, is my largest life's event. I guess...the best I can describe it is like a war veteran reliving days of terror. Having...to go through the worst moment in your life all over again. All the emotions flooding back, breaking from the inside, just when I was able to sleep at night again. Just when I was able to stop crying for a little bit. When I could feel...almost normal. Ripped open, slaughtered, mangled. I would have agreed to anything to make it stop. I would have said anything. Done anything, bar none. Steal something? Ok? Go Stab someone? Ok. Cut my nuts off? Ok. To say I was unstable would have been an understatement. Move to Texas? Yeah, did it. I had no choice. I moved, I've gotten an apartment with her and her daughter. Things started off great, got bad, went horrible, then stabalized around Okay. For the longest time I thought I was lucky to have her, until she cheated on me. Since then, I've felt more like she's lucky to have me. That was the worst of it though, although I did find out she somewhat cheated on me as well before I moved. So we had two terrible relationship ending encounters. I didn't leave her though. Actually, I couldn't. To her she was so worried I'd throw her out. To me, one of the worst feelings was that it wasn't even an option for me. I moved here, left my WORLD behind. My job. My family. My friends. I'd already spent a LARGE amount of the money I got from my dad passing away. Even if she had betrayed me, she was all I had now. I couldn't leave...no matter how terrible it was. I'm not so sure I would have left even if I had the option though anyway, at least...once the dust settled. I think...we have since repaired some of that damage, but there still remains some scars that may never recover. I often wonder where she is when she's not home now, regardless of what she tells me. All I can do is try to shut up the voice in my head - but it was that same voice that was right last time. Even so, this time...I think the voice is wrong. I get the urge to write, I've had it for months now. Living with someone else though, especially when the computer is placed in the more frequented room makes it near impossible to obtain the privacy I need to write now. She's far too nosey to not read over my shoulder, and one thing I can't be is self-conscious of what I'm typing. It defeats half the purpose of why I do. It's late, I can't sleep though she is passed out, so I'm free to ramble like I used to...for a while. For a few months more then ever I've felt the urge with these...horrible panging thoughts. "She's not right for you,"..."She's not the one,"...I hate that voice. I hate those thoughts. Often when I get upset, and she may not realize it...what upsets me most might not be what she did in itself, or why it upset me....but the thoughts and effects I have as a result. I don't like that nagging voice in my head that makes me doubt. I don't like to hear it. She doesn't hear it at all! She wants to get married. I can't. She used to tell me it didn't matter, I doubt I'd have allowed things to go so far if she had told me otherwise. But now that we're in too deep she's changed her stance to some extent. It went from "being with you is enough" to "It has to happen someday". I could never tell her some of the reasons...I feel I can't. I crave...control. Dominance. My alpha complex. In most all other aspects of my life, I am a follower. I am weak. I am meek. I am the bent-kneed servant who doesn't lead. I am timid. Shy. Introverted. ANd my whole life, I've been tossed about like a rag doll. I think that...is where it comes from. My need to feel like, I can take the reins on something. I can pick the direction. I can plot the course. I can be the guide. I can be the leader. I can be the nurturer. I can take care of someone. I am not the same person as a friend, as I am a lover. This secret part of me, this vital little piece....is of utmost importance. Something that has grown strongly in my soul, to be able to become the alpha male I never was. This has been something...she hasn't been able to give me. I constantly bring up my concerns, but nothing changes. I know, even if I weren't so ...twisted or hung up on someone else - I'd still never be able to marry her...without obtaining this piece. I can't tell her that though, because if I did...it would comrpomise the very intent of it. It can't be something she does to get me to marry her. It has to be something that comes...from her own heart. Her own soul. A part of her. Not something like...a bargain or trade. *Sigh* And even so...I still haven't gotten over Kitten anyway. I'd hate to make things look so ...bleak though. It's not at all the case. It's not that...our relationship is awful or doomed. I'm sure my writing makes me feel like such a negative person. Maybe I am too an extent. But I think the reality is if all I had to write about was sunshine and rainbows I wouldn't be compelled to write. I don't need to express the happy, I can let that flow freely in my life. It's the sad things, the dark things I keep bottled inside me that I need to vent. My new life hasn't been all terrible. We still have some really fun times, we still get along well, we have gotten to the point that life without each other sounds confusing and scary. It's just...not all there. Not everything I need. It's not the stuff I have I need to express...it's what I don't. I could try to inject the brighter side of things, although I doubt I'll be writing often enough to make the room for it on my plate. We shared New years together. It was...good. The first year I wasn't alone, but had someone at my side. Someone I could hold. The night went great- until she couldn't help herself. She told me, that she was glad I was here. That she also knew things never could have lasted if I hadn't moved her, because me being here made all the difference. Twenty minutes later, she started talking about Kitten and asked the worst question of all. How often did I still think of her, when was the last time? I refused to answer...because the truth was I had just thought about her. I wondered...what if it would have been true for her? What if I had moved to Kitten...would it have made all the difference too? Could I have held onto her? In some alternate life...could we have been together that way...? On the move down here to my new home in Texas, I passed by Kitten's state of residence. Even then...I thought about "WHat if I just went that way instead..." The crux of my conscious mind. I don't regret where I've ended up, I could have done far worse. I expected to. But I think I'll always lament for the life I could have had. In the passing year I've managed to stabalize myself and become grounded. With Amanda's help of course. Only through her... But I'm yet fragile, and it feels like covering up a hole with paint. Sure it looks nicer, but if you try to put your hand there the hole remains. So long as you don't try to reach in though, you don't ever have to know and can live on pretending it's repaired. That's how I feel. I was made ever aware of this today when before heading off to work (Which is a new retail store now) I decided to read old conversations. Within seconds...I found myself smiling with that....that...feeling I get when she's around. That..light...fluttery, cloud...floating...I don't even...know. It's almost spiritual. Happy. Pure and unfiltered. Remembering the days she was in my life. EVen as the tears brimmed my eyes, I continued on...until I came across something I'd told her long ago... ----------------------------------------------------------- There's the option, yes. I want you to know there is that option. But I've certainly never asked you to. I make my feelings known, but I don't intrude on your own. It's...present because I don't hide my feelings for you. I don't pretend like I woke up one morning and thought to myself "hmm...nope! Don't love her anymore! =D " =oP YOu know? But just because I have feelings for you, doesn't mean I expect you to drop your life for me. Just because you know I love you, and I show it in what ways I can, doesn't mean I'm asking you to drop your life for me. I know it sounds crazy...in a selfish world where people are only out for their own personal interest - but my affections towards you are not for personal gain. I'm not asking you to come back. I'm not asking you to tell me you love me just because I tell you that. I tell you because it's the way I feel and I love you whether you love me or not. I don't hold my care for you for something in return. I don't...do things for you because I want you to owe me one. I've actually never really asked much of anything from you, have I? I want to say I never did, but I'd hate to if I was wrong. I don't remember it. Maybe differently back when we were together, but ever since...*shrugs*
*Sighs* I don't know how to explain this. I try to better your life in more ways then I make known. I'm ever supportive of you and Clark, aren't I? You would think if I really expected you to leave him and come back to me...I'd do what C did. I'd tell you how horrible he is, how he's not right for you...he's a monster. I don't though. I encourage you. I encourage the both of you and your relationship. I gave you advice about getting him to kiss you and how sensitive his man parts are. And you really think I'm just...out to get you or something? The options on the table Dagan, I am here for you as a friend now - and a lover if you want it. But I'm by no means forcing it on you. I've only ever told you to follow your heart Dagan, if that's not me...you have my blessing. I want you to be happy. More then anything that's all I've ever wanted or tried to do is strive for your happiness. Even if that means it ends in my misery, I'm still fine with that. At least any sacrifices I made meant something. Because I could bring happiness to someone I love more then anything.
If you want to be with Clark, I'm not trying to stop you. I'm not standing in your way. I'll walk you down the aisle to him if it's what you want. Just be happy, Dagan. If I ask but one thing from you, that's it. Be happy. ------------------------------------------------------------- Reading it again was a jarring experience. It flooded back ...me. Who I was before, who I'm trying to leave behind. That...is my heart there. You can't see it all. You can't just read the words. You have to feel it. You have to...experience the resonation. It made me go..."That's me." Like I've forgotten who I truly am. That must sound so confusing to anyone outside my own head. Kitten tried to contact me once since she quit speaking to me. Hostile. Cold. Distanced, I still welcomed it openly. Maybe too openly. My response was...Friendly. Warm. Close. In my usual ever smiling way I speak to her. I think it spooked her. She decided against it shortly after that - or so I assume because my letters were never returned when I tried to respond. She keeps a facebook though, that I like to check on from time to time. I can't read it, but I can watch as the pictures change. I can imagine what's going on in her life...and most importantly I can see her smile. It...can let me rest my heavy soul for a meagre bit knowing she's smiling out there somewhere. Such a small victory but it can make the difference for me. I can close my eyes. Swallow hard. Crack a small smile and nod. Good. I hope I don't sound terribly stalkerish for that. I still worry about her. Still need to know she's ok. I can't...help her anymore. I can't do anything. Can only hope that she's happy, and it puts my mind at ease to know she's alright. Knowing that, I can try to focus on my new life. Or...whoever's life it is I'm living now. I feel more...like I died, but was given another life to try again. Even so, I can feel my heart and soul don't match the new body and life. All the same, I intend to try to live it to the fullest. I know...I'll never be happy like I was. I know...I'll never be like I once was. But I can strive for the most I can out of this other life. That's what I intend to do. It won't be so bad. I may have missed the dream, but I can have...something. You always wanted me to move on. You always wanted me to find someone else. Look! I did. See? See...? I did it afterall.... Are you happy...now...? | | |
| I know there was something I intended to write about, tucking the notes away in the back of my mind for later when I got around to putting it up in typing. I've since forgotten what revelation of great depressing epiphany I've since had. Everything kind of slowly merges together over the course of the week.
I did suffer a near heart attack, when I got the last of my life insurance checks from my father's passing. I was expecting another ten grand, which isn't bad by any means. The actual figure value was 30,000. My combined bank accounts are easily a six figure digit. Heh. Go figure. To think I was half-joking about buying Kitten a car for her birthday earlier this year. Now, I really could. It's something I might even still do, if you know...I didn't think she'd end up just returning it. I know there's no way she'd accept something like that and end in an awkward rejection. I wonder what it is about me that compels me to just...spend so big on her. Like..somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm telling myself if my love alone wasn't enough, if I wasn't enough...maybe adding money will make it enough. But the truth is, if my love wasn't enough for her, no amount of money will be either.
I also had the misfortune of getting into a depth discussion on my "state of being". To be quite honest, as withdrawn and distrusting as I am, something about my nature is starved for someone to listen or understand. Kitten was the last person in my life that was consistently around to listen more then once ever couple of weeks. That desperation has some repercussions in the form of sparking conversations that don't go so well. I mentioned some of my troubles to a co-worker that tends to be a bit nosey on the day I came back to work.
Coworker: "So...how are you feeling with .....'things'...?"
Me: "...Huh?"
"You know, about her."
"Oh...well uh, she still won't talk to me..so..no change.."
"You know just once I'd like to come in and see you happy."
"What do you mean?"
"You never are. You're always static, you don't ever go up. You only go from bad to worse."
"What makes you think that?"
"David, don't try to play me. I've been on this Earth a lot longer then you. Just because you use a smoke screen of sarcasm doesn't mean I don't know what's going on. I'm just saying, I'd really like to see you happy once. To have a little ...kick in your step."
"Well I was once.."
"yeah before, not now."
"....."
"You shouldn't be spending all this time pining away for this girl. She's moving on."
"I know she probably is."
"So what's the point? I get you love her, but if she's with someone else you're not going to get anything from waiting for her."
"I know..."
"So why do it? Do you really think she's going to come back if she's getting so serious with someone else?"
"I don't know. Maybe.."
"Maybe?"
"Well yeah, there is still a part of me that wants to believe I meant something to her. That she really loved me. And if she did, she'll come back some day. I don't think she will, and I know it's...exceedingly...more possible she never will, but..."
"You're still going to wait."
"*nod*"
"How long has it been?"
"Since ...she left?"
"Yeah."
"Four years."
"....Four years?! David that's a really long time to put yourself through that."
"I know, I know..."
"I'm just saying, you're going to kill yourself doing that. You really need to move one, there's plenty of other people out there."
"I know there is.."
"But you've already got your heart set on this one, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"That doesn't mean you have to wait for her though. I mean, it could take five or ten years or...more."
"I know that."
"So...?"
"Well...to me, if it does take five or ten years or more the wait is going to be worth it."
"True, true."
"..."
"She should have been there for you though, when your dad died."
"I know..."
"In one ear, out the other, huh?"
"It's not that. It's just...you don't see things the way I do. We have different perspectives. And while I can understand your perspective, I don't agree with it. You're right, from an entirely detached logical objective standpoint - I should forget it. I know what the logical choice is. It's not that I can't see it your way -"
"It's that you choose your own way."
"Well it's more just that I choose to follow my emotions instead of my head on this subject."
While the conversation was a bit longer, it only circled around the same subjects as she stubbornly tried to get me to adhere to her take on things. Unfortunately, I'm a stubborn fool. It wasn't so much in one ear and out the other, as it was like I told her...there's nothing she can tell me I haven't thought of in the past four years I've had to think about everything.
Later that day, I was reading online on my phone during my break. I read a passage about how human beings will only feel enough sadness and grieve to the proper amount the situation calls for. In other words, the more important and care / love that was involved, will be proportionate to how much sadness and grieving when it's gone. So what does that say about me? Especially in comparison to the rest of the world? I only ever hear about how four years, I'm crazy for going this long like this. I personally haven't met or even heard of others who've spent as much time at this...point of life that I have.
People say romantic things all the time, like "no one will ever love you as much as I will"...or "No one in the world has felt the love for another, that I have for you."....Am I the one person that can legitimately stake claim to this claim? Am I to believe I'm the only one with the capacity of so much love for another person, that it would crush all other's claims of love and heartbreak beneath it's heels with ease? It seems somewhat far fetched in a way. Not in the intensity of my love, but in how lacking the rest of the world would have to be under this comparison.
You hear that, Kitten? Psychology says I love you this much...four years and counting. I love you that much.....
| | |
| The weekend has passed, and I have finally begun to heal up physically. I had it coming though, I knew better then to push so much. But I did anyway. I'm often too reckless. In all things. Or braver. or...fearless. or. Something. But it's for all the wrong reasons. I've always been daunted by heights. Standing on the top rung of a ten - fifteen foot ladder was never going to happen for me. Ever. But now I ask myself...if I fall and break my neck, so what? I never felt comfortable driving in "packs" in traffic, that huge semi just on the side of me often making me nervous, especially with stupid people in this area. But if he smashes me off the road and my neck snaps...so what? If I cross the road without looking...and a car wants to hit me...so what? Let it hit me. I do not go out of my way to make these things happen, but I no longer try to avoid them. Apathy. Perhaps. A lack of self preservation gradually waning further.
I worked myself until the bile rose up in my throat over the weekend. Three days in a row. I shouldn't have done it Sunday...I knew I shouldn't, but I did. I paid for it. I pulled a back muscle...and since then I haven't been able to properly walk, bend or lift. Which makes my work ...difficult. In the fact that I can't do most of it anymore, and try to find simple tasks to keep me busy. Even simply laying down is quite the effort, something about it seems to irritate the portion I strained and small movements invoke that frozen moment, mouth gaping , eyes wide sort of pain that just cripples on the spot. It'll heal with time, I'm sure. But perhaps it's not so bad. It averts my attention more toward that pain, being mindful not to provoke it...and in an instant it can sweep through my consciousness, if only for a fleeting moment. Perhaps it is a blessing. Sick and twisted. But one. None the less...
I visited my father's grave after work today.
Grave 1
Grave 2
It seems like the grass hasn't died as they warned me it might, not that it matters with the approaching winter. But the outline is still clearly visible where they buried him. The upper right corner of his mother's grave, in a hole just small enough to fit his urn into. You can see the date's on his parents stone...he didn't live to be much older then his own father. I wonder if I'll die around that age as well? I'd be almost half done with my life if that was the case. Depressing and yet...not entirely bad. if I've handled four years of this so poorly...do I want it to be longer? Do I have something to look forward to in longer? If I'd died a couple years ago, would I have really missed out on much?
I honestly don't know. For the most part, a resounding and wide no. Nothing that seems to have any lasting effect or worthwhile notion. What have I done? get up for work every morning, bitching the whole way...drag myself through the day to come home, be miserable and wait to do it all over again? I did try to serve toward my own purpose against death, but did I ever make any difference to her? Or anyone? Did I even impact ANYONES life in a profound lasting way? I don't think so. I don't think any of my actions have mattered. To those around me, those who have walked away...they carry nothing of me with them. To those that remain, they do not even see me. And to her. My most important, I fear I was most invisible of all. Despite my exhausting efforts, it meant....nothing. So truly, what was it I was needed for? What did I have to gain from these years? ...Nothing. My existence could have ceased and the course of time would have flowed just fine, and it wasn't a journey I enjoyed so I fail to see the point.
I hated this knowledge though. Standing with my father at my feet, having to force back tears of apologies. I'm sorry dad, I couldn't do any better. I'm going to die alone too. I know you don't want to watch me, the miserable failure screw it all up again...but now you must know, i already did.
It's a concept I've often wondered. Do we become...enlightened upon death? There are talks of heaven and hell and afterlife and spiritual existence. But when we die, are we filled with all the blank knowledge we were missing in life? Do we become infused with the memories of others that touched our lives? Do we suddenly -know- the events of their lives, their emotions thoughts and every being? It is believed they can "watch over us" that they can "know what we think and pray" do they know the past too? The future? The present? How far does it extend?
I wonder if my father finally has the answers...to why I was always so withdrawn. Why I was always so quiet and kept to myself. Why I lived "like an old man" as he put it. He could never understand that about me...what made me recoil from society, what made me so lonely....does he know it all now?
I stayed for some time..conversation and one-track words floating over my mind in the silent cold of the place. Thirty degrees out today. Cold enough to see one's breath upon the frigid air. The ground was still soft for now...but my thoughts weren't. I said my goodbyes, and went back to his house...or old house... to pick up any mail that's been collecting. Although, not before walking around aimlessly. Going through the backyard, the garden, around the pool...remembering stupid things. Building the deck. Which he had me do from 6 AM until well after dusk. When I complained it was too dark out to work, ...he brought out a floodlight and we worked well toward midnight. Crazy bitch he was. he swam exactly like a polar bear. I haven't forgotten such things. images around the yard, in the house...trying to sort through the memories. But there's that block that keeps me from feeling too much. Probably for the better, but...still a faint pang of the turmoil beneath the surface.
The place is changing so much. If he could see, he'd be pissed and rolling in his grave I'm sure. The house is a wreck already, the lawn unkept, his room torn up and being remodeled six ways from sunday with cigarette butts littering the ground and furniture. But it is...how it is I suppose. The mail was mostly junk, nothing too note worthy...and I did try to start my car since I was told it wouldn't start. What do you know, it doesn't anymore! I better be able to keep my new one...otherwise I'm pretty fucked I guess.
The nostalgia was sickening by the time I got home. Glad to be done with that adventure for now, but still plagued by so much more. Am I simply in denial? Is the one I loved...gone? I fight it at every turn. I refuse to believe it. I'll argue to the death despite...how bad things get that...she's not like that. she's not. And yet..it persists, and I don't know ...how to rationalize or explain it all.
My father lost the one he loved to Cancer. Inevitably, he died to cancer too. I don't know what I lost the one I loved to. I just know that she's gone. That's a memory that's going to stand out. Standing at my father's grave...trying to explain to him as the cold wind picks up. I'm going to be just like you after all dad. I lost her too.
I'm going to die sad and lonely, just like you Dad. Just like you...
| | |
| I've found myself struggling lately, to keep stuffing things down...somewhere far down where they won't effect me and I won't have to deal with them as much. To try to maintain that sense of numbness that allows me to get through the day without hurtling myself off a bridge. But the thoughts grow stronger.
I remember four years ago, when flashes of images...were happy ones. Snapshots of some alternate reality that back then, was going to come true some day. The things I look forward to. It's funny how people's aspirations can vary so greatly. Ask a person, to entirely unleash their mind. No limits! Seriously, go outside the box of what is possible and simply what if there was no cost or obstacle that they would want to see themself doing. Is it playing for the NBA? Retired living in a mansion at age 30? Traveling the world! Exploring outer space or having their face on every poster in every movie theater. People dream big. Huge. My snapshots were none of those things. I was comfortable with my direction in life, more then comfortable, I was happy. I saw...her, laying in the bed as I rose up every morning. Her curled up on the couch beside me on a lazy late cold night. I felt..her presence in all things I did, like a ghost that flitted around and followed me everywhere I went because I carried her so strongly in my thoughts and heart. Like...in my every day life, whether I was at the store, at home, or driving somewhere...there was this paper cut out hole, a black void of something missing or something reserved. Like she was meant to be there but hadn't arrived yet and in all those things..that cut-out of the future followed me.
Those were my big dreams. Flashes of these things are tainted with circumstances. Quickly poisoned by life. When I woke up this morning, the cat was sprawled out across my bed so peacefully, head tilted onto a clump of blanket with catty smile plastered across her face. Daydreaming edged it's way in, trying to see that cut-out again in her stead. Sprawled out, smiling, resting as I prepare to head to work. The reality though, the images corrupted, shifted to reality...she may have been sprawled on smiling on a bed, but it certainly wouldn't be mind. The mysterious elderly male worming into the picture, for it is his bed she'll sleep in. His face she'll smile to. Like a ghost they both followed me, dragging their chained weight... they walked hand in hand at the store. They chatted idly on the long car ride. They curled up together for warmth on the couch, and her eyes glazed over in love and contentment at his touch and presence. I was the ghost now. Watching my own ghosts, from an other-worldly perspective...the rational thoughts trying to beat the dreams out of me. Beat the love down. Tear it all down so I could build a dream that I can have. Maybe subconsciously trying to shove reality into my face so I'll quit hoping. Like...if I counter all my daydreaming with enough painful images I'll get the idea and stop dreaming. But i've always been a dreamer.
I see things so vividly they can greatly effect my mood. Just when I think I can have it all blocked and shoved to some dark corner of my mind...it'll take...an instant, a corrupted snapshot...I'll be struck with silence, withdraw...and if I'm in public or something is close by - avoid crying at all costs as the world shrivels and implodes onto me. Crushed under the weight but never dying.
I almost feel bad for these thoughts too. She seemed...to resent me for this strong attachment. At least, lately...before she cut me out of her life again. Can I really be so blamed for it? She encouraged it so strongly before...we both did, we developed that attachment. Worked on it. Tried to bring us together closer. It's not something I can just..undo so easily. Nor do I even want to, when it comes down to it. That's probably the biggest problem I face in ...moving on with life. I have to want to. But I don't. I'm stubbornly, devotedly, foolishly, stuck in the past. Where our roads separated...as she walked the one road and tried to shove me toward the other - not allowing me to follow...I stopped. I watched her break the bridge behind her so I couldn't follow, walking off into the distance...left with only one road to go down - alone. The other road. The road that leads far off in the opposite direction. Instead of walking it though...I've stood there. Waiting. Waiting for her to come back and get me. Like some dumb animal that doesn't understand what just happened, but simply patiently waits. Only i do understand. I stay because...I thought we were supposed to take that road together, weren't we? I want that road. I loved that road. That comfort. That euphoria. I loved knowing she was always there, I loved...her soft affectionate voice, I loved her easy-going understanding attitude, I loved how even when we fought and argued we'd allow it to bring us closer together, I love the way she could rant about her days for hours on end and just every single thing about it. Flaws, imperfections and all, for even in those things should you call them that - I saw the beauty in it all. For her as a whole. To accept it as such.
Even with all the mess going on, with all the confusion, I can still openly welcome her back to my arms because I can accept her for who she is. If this...whole crazy streak is part of it, then I want to understand it. I want...to be able to get it and I feel we could work through anything. But...as I stand at the crossroads and watch her walk off, I know I won't get that chance. She strayed...a couple times, over the years to take a few steps with me. Steps I wish never had to end. But the more time passes, the more she only seems to return to try to push me away from the crossroads, to shove me down that other road, "Shoo, go on! Go! Go! Scat!" even a swift kick to the butt and trying to drag it by the scruff of it's neck. But I don't listen. I want to go with her.
Maybe I'm destined to die at these crossroads. What other end is there? If I refuse to walk the path without her, yet she will not allow me to accompany her?
I also wonder though, how much if this she forces on herself. I've always been...astounded at how...contorted her perception can be. Before she left...she had this..unnervingly natural understanding of me. In a way...no one else ever understood me. She just...she got it. All of it. What things she didn't, she strove to discover, to better understand. But now...? It's like...she completely misses the point on everything. Like...instead of taking in reality, she chooses to believe the worst possible scenario for any given situation. She doesn't see me for me...or the good in me, she only sees...what she wants to. What...twisted corrupted vision of me that she can. The more I scramble to try to correct that vision, the more twisted it becomes in her eyes until she grows so disgusted with me...things degrade to this. How can that be though? How can she not get it anymore? How can she have thought, I try to guilt or manipulate her into things? Like...I'm that kind of person? How can she have thought, I expect her to worship me as a martyr? She screams it out as though she's so certain on my purposes and yet...she misses my entire line of thinking. My every feeling attached to the situation. That's not it at all....but she's so set in seeing it that way- I don't know what to do.
Perhaps there's nothing I can do. Maybe it's even better this way. Maybe...she contorts things to make it easier on herself. I don't ...want her to force herself into this if she'd be happier with...alternatives. But at the same time, maybe she is happier this way, and doesn't force it so much as twist it to make moving on easier - because that is what she truly wants...and by twisting me into something so...ugly it makes it easier to not look over her shoulder. To not remember the stubborn stray that sits unmoving, unblinking, watching her walk off. Tail wagging at any glance given toward it by her, restless on haunches with soft whimpers wanting to run off onto that path with her. Maybe it's easier..to not see it for what it is...and imagine the hideous beast she can't wait to get rid of. Demonic maw gnarling and mashing ready to gnaw at her kneecaps in slow tender bone crunching ways if she doesn't leave it alone. The ugly. The demented. The evil. The wrong and condemned.
Is that what I have to be for her? Is that what it will take for her to be happy...? Explaining myself to her would be contradictory to that if that's the case. But in all things, I'm always plagued with not knowing the answer. I want to help her, I just wish I knew what the right thing was.
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| The breeze swept in slowly at first, light hints of what was to come in a matter of moments. The air started to hint with that old familiar way, that way it could only feel just before the rush. A flash. Light trickles to start as it slowly drizzled into a steady rain. Within a minute, it was pouring and rushing across the street in waves, and I couldn't tear my eyes away. Watching out the window silently from my room as the torrent beat down onto the cement, sirens went off in warning. A tornado was spotted just the next town over and could hit here any minute. The rain faded, died out slowly almost just as quickly as it started. It was over. I remember some of the best poetic words in my life at times like these...
"It's raining again today. The sky is a shade of medium gray, smudged with darker streaks that sometimes blend and merge into one another, and sometimes stand out harshly against the vaguer background..and falling drops are sometimes soft and gentle, little more than a damp whisper or heavy mist...sometimes strong and powerful, sweeping over everything and taking it in a moment. And in that I can be satisfied...it has been raining for weeks, the sun has shone little, but the rain is beautiful...the rain is like us, like you. So David, dear David, know that I speak from my heart when I say I love you. Know that there is much more meaning than those words can express. Know that you are a part of my life that I hope will never leave, for if you do, I will be nothing, just an empty shell."
Words so vividly stamped into my mind I could never forget them. Like a prayer I can tell to myself at night, to offer up to the human belief of love that my prayers will go answered someday. Yet the empty knowledge knowing here in my room alone, no one can hear me. I can watch the rain though, and remember that sentiment. That time long ago when I was once loved. I wonder if the author is even still alive...or if the spirit has long since died out, laying in ashes as some....other...entity has taken over. Memories from a past life long since faded, like the author of such beautiful words no longer exists. Or if perhaps..the author has simply chosen new methods of inspiration, and I can never see that side of them again. Maybe...they lay caged in the depths of a that hollow empty shell, wanting to break free. Has she become so empty as she swore..? Or is she truly...happier without me?
Such thoughts leave me haunted. I know what I want. I know what I need. It's her I worry about in my actions. I've thought of sending her flowers. I know it seems silly to do when it should be the other way around...but to me, mending the bridge is far more important then who's right or wrong. Even if she never realizes how...hurtful she was to me, I can accept that to have her back in my life. And..maybe that's wrong of me, but...the price I pay is worth the small sliver of something to hold onto that I get in return. Even I can see the sickly flawed logic in my desires. I'm not blind to it. I can look at things objectively, and shake my own head at myself. What a fool. Can't he see what he's doing to himself? Can't he see how this is going to end? It's like begging for the poison to drink down greedily! I understand it. I see it. I know what most others will interpret the situation as. I don't make my decisions with my head though. I know I'm defying most all logic on a giant roulette wheel, and about 99 billion of those slots have bullets in them. Only one has the silver lining. I'm being irrational, and stupid. I don't want to be the martyr, but that's the path I'm heading down. I'm nailing myself to the cross. Willingly.
There are few that can look at me with that sort of knowledge and not think me absolutely insane. If anyone could. I place my decisions upon...what the heart tells me. Her smile is absolutely burned, etched, and engraved into every pulse of life that beats through my veins. All these years...strong as ever.
I don't know if the flowers are a good idea though. I don't know..if mending that bridge is the best plan. I know it'll be good for me. I know...I'll feel better about it. She may not help me or be at all there for me...but at least...I could do it for her, right? At least...I could have her close by in some way. I could at least know..she's ok. I could at least know, she's happy. But...what if by mending that bridge, I infect her own life with my presence? What if ...I don't have at all the same effect on her I used to? What if I only drag her down?
When we talked on this...the only thing she drew from my statements was how I expected her to grovel at my feet in gratitude for the things i"ve done for her. That wasn't the case at all. I don't know if it means anything to her. I don't know...if my efforts are having the intended effect. I don't know if she even liked having me around. If she cared about me at all anymore. If I was helpful or anything I did mattered at all. I don't know if she hates me or is glad that I'm gone. I hate to say that, to admit it...but...I don't...recognize her so much half the time. If this were..a year or two ago, I'd have no doubts. But the way she's...acted. Or changed or...whatever it is. I don't know anymore. I really don't. I don't want to mend that bridge if it means it'll be worse for her. I don't want to bring myself back into her life if she'll be unhappy about it or it's going to bring her down, stress her, anything negative. But the grand problem is, I don't know what it will do. All I know is she isn't in any hurry to talk to me again. So....I don't know....maybe anything she's ever felt for me is just.....dead....and she's glad I'm gone.
If that's the case...what am I waiting around for? The slow crawl towards death..? May as well just plunge of the bridge and get it over with, right?
I got a call yesterday while I was still laying down. I didn't feel like getting up to answer it. When I checked my phone later on, there was a voice message, from some estate recovery place. Huh? I google the number, it's a debt collection agency specialization in the acquisition of debts of the deceased. Fuck. My dad had a good 100,000+ in medical debt. And they got my cell number somehow? Double fuck. Things are about to get a lot worse if things keep in this direction.
It's closing in on midnight...and I have to be up in four hours. Another sleepless night. Another night of tormenting thoughts, pitted loneliness...staring at the ceiling asking myself where it all went wrong and why it ended up this way. remembering the good times. Thinking of how it could or should of been. How it is. Wondering what she's doing out there. Wondering just how far every day brings her closer to him. How far lost she is. How intimate they've gotten and how impossible it would be for her to ever look at me in that way again.
Why am I still alive..?
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