I’d rather write than go after ‘My Boyfriend’ right now. This has been an ugly process. The
one where I watch more confusion set in. The one I cut my nose off to spite my face. The pain I’m
experiencing now is the furthest removed from where I started. And that makes it more painful.
The only part of myself I allow the pain to be felt is in the observer part of my mind. It notices
and says “svweeeeeiiiuuu, now that hurts” but I don’t physically feel any pain. That isn’t always
the case. I have realization moments that cause me to burst into tears instantly. No build-up.
Wailing. That is at the other end of the spectrum from the feel point of ‘The Observer’. And I
realized today that he can’t really know what I’m going through because he would have to have
thought about , in some great detail, the thought-feeling affect upon me, from each thing he said
to me. That’s not only showing the presence of an unusual fondness, but nearly impossible as
well, an uncanny memory to recall the instant random statements made by another, and that is
hard. Too hard for someone to do. To analyze someone else’s feelings. Most people don’t do it
for/to themselves.
So he’s not going through this with me. He doesn’t ‘get’ the things I have twisted and burned to
realize and come to understand, like I think he does. He isn’t tuned into any frequency I’m on
most of the time I think. I know because I believe the ways in which someone feels or knows
when they ARE on the same frequencies is you get a desired response from the person you are
emitting to. So me feeling like another is sharing in my pain and growing the same way from it, is a concocted fantasy of mine. I guess it has all along. Been that way. I’m starting to talk like Yoda.
So its like this push – pull, dissatisfying cycle of active components trying to get a spark. They
mean to slam into one another so they can create enough fusion to ignite, but they don’t. So they try again. Same thing. And that’s like one cell in a body made of trillions of cell, and every cell is doing that same thing. Yet the body must go on, and so it pushes itself with out the electrical sparks needed to run and it begins to breakdown. Lose it’s purpose,
Give up on itself. Begins to not see the good side of anything. Begins to not know there is a good side to anything. Begins to not care whether there is or there isn’t a good side to anything. There I am. That’s me.
You found me. Lost.
You found me hopeless.
You found me strange.
You found me alone.
You found me broken. Defeated. My little light all stomped out.
I couldn’t get him to care. I couldn’t shine a bright enough light somewhere else to get him to
even notice there may be easier and better ways to go about getting what he wants AND please
others. Like himself. I couldn’t convince him I was right about anything. Because he didn’t care.
He is in another world from the one I’m living in. And who’s to say my world is any better? His
world certainly is less emotional. And not taken up by psychological exercises and mental
limits experiments. Where your mind is expanded through grotesque examples of pathetic jargon and manipulative responses. Well, the manipulative responses part he actually does own the building now that I think about it.
Mindless. Present and clear danger. Soaking my mind in an acid bath of rejection and shame.
Why would I do that to myself? For love? How does that work? At some point I should have
jumped off before the ship was too far out to sea for me to be able to swim back to shore.
Now I am along for the ride until it’s conclusion. However bitter it may be. And that’s the saddest
feature of all, I expect. One I can see as well as feel.
Copyright
November 9th, 2015
