The nature of Goodbye.
As the days turn to weeks, and hence to months at this point, I find myself in an interesting position.
That of shame.
I'm not really comfortable with feeling ashamed. Embarassment I've learned to deal with over the years, and it really doesn't phase me that much. Embarassment you just don't want anybody to find out about. Shame relates to actions you, yourself, wish you could take back.
Honestly, it's a new one for me.
I have spent a lifetime trying to do the right thing, repetatively telling myself that knowing I was doing so was its own reward. That nobody and nothing could touch me as long as I held true to the ideals that were in my heart, ingraned and painted on my soul by childhood/phychology/social experimentation/ and, at the core of who I am.
In the past month and a half I've been rather . . . out of control seems the best way to describe it. Doing things out of character. Running around, trying to escape that damnable time I lay my head down and can't run from a conscience that I know is screaming at me to remember who I was. Why I was that way. And a host of other things.
Recently I remarked to a good friend . . . "You know, I should just go back to picking one guy and pining over him silently for years. I was completely fucking miserable, but, dammit, at least I was happy."
Its been a couple days, and I'm liking that idea more and more. My life was in control. I was kicking ass and taking names at work. The house was running smoother . . . Things were better.
Because that's me. Its who I am. And, I apologize to the roomies, because, let's face it, I know its not the healthiest move, but . . . you know me. *Smirk* Never one for the easy way, or ever accused of the lack of whining.
"I'm using you. And its killing me." --> BtVS.
Sometimes I want to scream this at Boy B. He is so . . . confused. I almost feel sorry for him. He wants a lie. And . . . honestly . . . I thought that maybe I could give it to him so long as he knew I was lying to him too.
But I can't. I can't be close to a ghost. And without that . . . what the crap is the point, really? Its illusory and I can't bring myself to operate on that level. God help me I wish I could but . . . without tangible, real, even partial heart in a friendship, relationship, what have you . . . its just so empty and hollow and all it will do is hurt me in the end.
I can't feel for two of us. I can't continually explain what emotions are to a person I'm going to be around a lot. Boy B once told me that he didn't want a woman who he " . . . had to teach what that thing was between her legs." My stellar reply . . . ? "I don't want to be around a guy who I have to teach what that thing is buried beneath his ribcage."
So, as conceeded as it is . . . I'm weening him off contact with me. We'll see if that works out.
Which brings me to Boy A. *big sigh here* Many of my friends, the close ones. The once-in-a-lifetime ones have told me, screamed at me really, to tell him good-bye. To just cut all ties and be done with it. My simple reply to that . . . ? "Don't you think I've tried?"
I have told Boy A good-bye so many times. Trying to retain the fast friendship we've developed only. Asking him to not touch me . . . even a handshake. Didn't work out so hot that route. For Christ's sake, he was supposed to be a one-night-stand of all things. MONTHS ago.
There are very few words to describe how I feel at this point. I'm angry. Well, that's pretty much par for the course. But, its what I'm angry at that's changed. Time. Space. Personalities. The gamut.
I know he will never choose me. Not in a million years. And, I'm pretty much cool with that. A thousand 'if only's later . . . those don't change the reality of the situation. But, the nature of my love is non-reciprocal. Something I'm actually grateful to re-learn thanks to this relationship I have developed with Boy A. (not a romantic relationship, mind you, but an inter-human one)
All I can do at this point is hide my tears when I feel them attack. Take what precious moments are given to me without looking back and know, firmly, in my gut, that whatever happens . . . our friendship will be fast and true. That I would ride into battle next to him as easily as hide from the world for a night.
For now that's got to be enough. Beholden to none, I am, as always alone. Not to discredit the friends I have beside me. But, you know enough to know that by now I hope. I don't really mind being alone so much. I have always stood in the tempest and fought back the storms by myself. It's what I do. What I'm good at. And, in a lot of ways, who I am and why I'm here.
So, I remain, screaming.
You cannot have this.
This is mine.
Time to reclaim that and remember the fact that even though I may have recently been playing a part that I am not proud of . . . I can choose who I want to be.
I want to be -M-. I want to be Polaris again. A light in the darkness, by which to set course. Steady and true. All alone in the night.
How's THAT for getting back into posting, eh?
BTW -- If you know of who I speak, for the love of GOD keep it on LJ. If this is to be a journal, and you really want to know what's going on . . . it needs to stay that way. Soon as something I post gets back to me irl . . . not only will I have your kneecaps for ashtrays but you'll have ruined it for everybody who actually cares.
-M-
That of shame.
I'm not really comfortable with feeling ashamed. Embarassment I've learned to deal with over the years, and it really doesn't phase me that much. Embarassment you just don't want anybody to find out about. Shame relates to actions you, yourself, wish you could take back.
Honestly, it's a new one for me.
I have spent a lifetime trying to do the right thing, repetatively telling myself that knowing I was doing so was its own reward. That nobody and nothing could touch me as long as I held true to the ideals that were in my heart, ingraned and painted on my soul by childhood/phychology/social experimentation/ and, at the core of who I am.
In the past month and a half I've been rather . . . out of control seems the best way to describe it. Doing things out of character. Running around, trying to escape that damnable time I lay my head down and can't run from a conscience that I know is screaming at me to remember who I was. Why I was that way. And a host of other things.
Recently I remarked to a good friend . . . "You know, I should just go back to picking one guy and pining over him silently for years. I was completely fucking miserable, but, dammit, at least I was happy."
Its been a couple days, and I'm liking that idea more and more. My life was in control. I was kicking ass and taking names at work. The house was running smoother . . . Things were better.
Because that's me. Its who I am. And, I apologize to the roomies, because, let's face it, I know its not the healthiest move, but . . . you know me. *Smirk* Never one for the easy way, or ever accused of the lack of whining.
"I'm using you. And its killing me." --> BtVS.
Sometimes I want to scream this at Boy B. He is so . . . confused. I almost feel sorry for him. He wants a lie. And . . . honestly . . . I thought that maybe I could give it to him so long as he knew I was lying to him too.
But I can't. I can't be close to a ghost. And without that . . . what the crap is the point, really? Its illusory and I can't bring myself to operate on that level. God help me I wish I could but . . . without tangible, real, even partial heart in a friendship, relationship, what have you . . . its just so empty and hollow and all it will do is hurt me in the end.
I can't feel for two of us. I can't continually explain what emotions are to a person I'm going to be around a lot. Boy B once told me that he didn't want a woman who he " . . . had to teach what that thing was between her legs." My stellar reply . . . ? "I don't want to be around a guy who I have to teach what that thing is buried beneath his ribcage."
So, as conceeded as it is . . . I'm weening him off contact with me. We'll see if that works out.
Which brings me to Boy A. *big sigh here* Many of my friends, the close ones. The once-in-a-lifetime ones have told me, screamed at me really, to tell him good-bye. To just cut all ties and be done with it. My simple reply to that . . . ? "Don't you think I've tried?"
I have told Boy A good-bye so many times. Trying to retain the fast friendship we've developed only. Asking him to not touch me . . . even a handshake. Didn't work out so hot that route. For Christ's sake, he was supposed to be a one-night-stand of all things. MONTHS ago.
There are very few words to describe how I feel at this point. I'm angry. Well, that's pretty much par for the course. But, its what I'm angry at that's changed. Time. Space. Personalities. The gamut.
I know he will never choose me. Not in a million years. And, I'm pretty much cool with that. A thousand 'if only's later . . . those don't change the reality of the situation. But, the nature of my love is non-reciprocal. Something I'm actually grateful to re-learn thanks to this relationship I have developed with Boy A. (not a romantic relationship, mind you, but an inter-human one)
All I can do at this point is hide my tears when I feel them attack. Take what precious moments are given to me without looking back and know, firmly, in my gut, that whatever happens . . . our friendship will be fast and true. That I would ride into battle next to him as easily as hide from the world for a night.
For now that's got to be enough. Beholden to none, I am, as always alone. Not to discredit the friends I have beside me. But, you know enough to know that by now I hope. I don't really mind being alone so much. I have always stood in the tempest and fought back the storms by myself. It's what I do. What I'm good at. And, in a lot of ways, who I am and why I'm here.
So, I remain, screaming.
You cannot have this.
This is mine.
Time to reclaim that and remember the fact that even though I may have recently been playing a part that I am not proud of . . . I can choose who I want to be.
I want to be -M-. I want to be Polaris again. A light in the darkness, by which to set course. Steady and true. All alone in the night.
How's THAT for getting back into posting, eh?
BTW -- If you know of who I speak, for the love of GOD keep it on LJ. If this is to be a journal, and you really want to know what's going on . . . it needs to stay that way. Soon as something I post gets back to me irl . . . not only will I have your kneecaps for ashtrays but you'll have ruined it for everybody who actually cares.
-M-