Ferociously, Voraciously, Unambiguously, Fervently, Stunningly, Furiously
Andre and I had a long talk. He isn't coming home for our anniversary. We're going to try again, I think, but I'm different now than I was. I can leave now. This adds a dimension that is really new to me, the newest thing being that I'm not scared of being without him. This *fact* scares me because I'm not used to not being afraid.
I feel like I ought to find out I'm in denial, or I ought to realize I just have an emotional block. But I don't think that's the case. There's no underlying turmoil, there's no panic in the middle of the night, just me, and the idea that I would be alone if I weren't with him, but not alone forever. Or maybe alone forever. The weird part is that none of that fazes me anymore, whereas before it would put me in a depressive tailspin.
Maybe that weird two-week episode *was* some sort of unconscious exorcism. Maybe someone did something to me. Maybe I did it to myself.
My point, actually, is that I love Andre, and that I want to be in love with him still, but I don't *need* to be with him. My codependency, as beautiful as it wasn't, is not what I want. It's not any longer how I operate. I think I have a new intensity, something way better, way more astonishing and stunning and wonderful. There's so much energy, so much potential to create incredible fusion. We could go nuclear. I want us to actually be ourselves, together.
I want us to work, but I'm tired of always being the fixer, the reacher-out. He gets to fix it now, and I will help, but he gets to prove himself, because after 4 years I'm losing my faith. Odd how it's such a perfect religious allegory.
I love so much, so many things, so many people. There's just, I mean, too much. I don't think it's easy to understand, and it probably even offends people, but I like myself better when I don't-try-not-to-love things. I was miserable when I did that. I have enough in me to love everyone I ever meet, and never stop loving them, and etc etc etc. I am a solar flare. Not as impressive as the Synesthete Tesla, but maybe as impressive as a really good dog.
I think that maybe in the grand scheme of things I'm just some dumb girl prone to crushes. But I refuse to think that's all of it. I feel too strongly about it.
Andre and I can go on forever, just not like we have been. He seems really to want to work on it. I'm excited about that. He told me he carried three spiders and one centipede outside in plastic cups instead of washing them down the shower drain, just because he knew I'd like it. He saved four little lives for me. How many people have saved four lives for you?
Who knows how it will go? I know we've been here before. The difference is that it's easy now for both of us to just leave, to go our own ways and not look back. The difference is that it's the last remix, and we both know it, and maybe that will be motivation enough. Or it won't, and it'll just end. Either way.
Time to know.
I have to be able to love someone and have them love me back.
I feel like I ought to find out I'm in denial, or I ought to realize I just have an emotional block. But I don't think that's the case. There's no underlying turmoil, there's no panic in the middle of the night, just me, and the idea that I would be alone if I weren't with him, but not alone forever. Or maybe alone forever. The weird part is that none of that fazes me anymore, whereas before it would put me in a depressive tailspin.
Maybe that weird two-week episode *was* some sort of unconscious exorcism. Maybe someone did something to me. Maybe I did it to myself.
My point, actually, is that I love Andre, and that I want to be in love with him still, but I don't *need* to be with him. My codependency, as beautiful as it wasn't, is not what I want. It's not any longer how I operate. I think I have a new intensity, something way better, way more astonishing and stunning and wonderful. There's so much energy, so much potential to create incredible fusion. We could go nuclear. I want us to actually be ourselves, together.
I want us to work, but I'm tired of always being the fixer, the reacher-out. He gets to fix it now, and I will help, but he gets to prove himself, because after 4 years I'm losing my faith. Odd how it's such a perfect religious allegory.
I love so much, so many things, so many people. There's just, I mean, too much. I don't think it's easy to understand, and it probably even offends people, but I like myself better when I don't-try-not-to-love things. I was miserable when I did that. I have enough in me to love everyone I ever meet, and never stop loving them, and etc etc etc. I am a solar flare. Not as impressive as the Synesthete Tesla, but maybe as impressive as a really good dog.
I think that maybe in the grand scheme of things I'm just some dumb girl prone to crushes. But I refuse to think that's all of it. I feel too strongly about it.
Andre and I can go on forever, just not like we have been. He seems really to want to work on it. I'm excited about that. He told me he carried three spiders and one centipede outside in plastic cups instead of washing them down the shower drain, just because he knew I'd like it. He saved four little lives for me. How many people have saved four lives for you?
Who knows how it will go? I know we've been here before. The difference is that it's easy now for both of us to just leave, to go our own ways and not look back. The difference is that it's the last remix, and we both know it, and maybe that will be motivation enough. Or it won't, and it'll just end. Either way.
Time to know.
I have to be able to love someone and have them love me back.