Curtain Call
I don't know how, or why, or when, but K and I stopped seeing each other. She just faded away, cancelling plans here and there, not returning calls. And I never even bothered to confront her about it. I just let her disappear, like leaves under the snow.
But our love was so passionate, is the strange thing. It was thrilling and mortifying and we were still high on the fact that it had arrived to claim us by this time last year. And it's not like we booked it at the first sign of trouble, I've had some emotionally tumultuous roles to occupy my body and mind, and we'd both been scheduling dates over the sacred parts of the calendar where we had writ "Sleep Goddammit" months before. We had navigated through all of the early poly pitfalls with a strange grace, including wary other partners, boundaries, safety, and communication. I confronted huge demons I had, about drugs and sex, to be with her, and so did she. We knew what we were getting into. We had a two year history before we decided to go for it. She said that she was scared she would run away, but for the first couple of months after she left I wasn't even sure she was gone. We had one date after over a month and it was like nothing had ever happened. Like it had only been two days. We made plans for later that week, and I haven't heard from her since, except to say "Thank you!" when I texted her "Happy Birthday!"
I shouldn't be so... I mean, should I ever expect otherwise? I don't know what I was thinking. I was thinking "Maybe this time..." but I never know how to finish that sentence. Maybe this time fucking what?
Maybe this time, we'll have more time.
I work so hard for everything, and before I can even finish the work the rewards aren't there any more. I don't remember a single curtain-call during Macbeth. I mean, I remember choreographing it, and waiting for my cue, and that moment where you try to gauge if you should bow again, and running to get the makeup and costume off, but I don't remember receiving the applause. I don't remember being thanked for my work. I know, intellectually, that I was, that's what clapping is: "Thanks for telling us a story and learning how to sword fight, bro!" but I never had that moment of release, where I just let go of time and accept that I am appreciated. And that happened every night for three weeks. An accumulated hour or so of time reserved for me to let go and enjoy the fact that I did something, and I spent it still at work.
Am I like that in my relationships now? Am I so busy working at them that I can't actually have good times? With K gone, it feels like every good time we ever had was shrouded by its contextual weight. I haven't been relaxed in over a year... I had a really fucking good bath last year...
It's at the point where taking time to appreciate the moment is a cosmic event. Three years ago, I was so the opposite that I never got anything done. I don't know which is better.
But it's too late now. K is gone, I never got a curtain-call, and the only thing left to do is keep working at everything else until it's over.
But our love was so passionate, is the strange thing. It was thrilling and mortifying and we were still high on the fact that it had arrived to claim us by this time last year. And it's not like we booked it at the first sign of trouble, I've had some emotionally tumultuous roles to occupy my body and mind, and we'd both been scheduling dates over the sacred parts of the calendar where we had writ "Sleep Goddammit" months before. We had navigated through all of the early poly pitfalls with a strange grace, including wary other partners, boundaries, safety, and communication. I confronted huge demons I had, about drugs and sex, to be with her, and so did she. We knew what we were getting into. We had a two year history before we decided to go for it. She said that she was scared she would run away, but for the first couple of months after she left I wasn't even sure she was gone. We had one date after over a month and it was like nothing had ever happened. Like it had only been two days. We made plans for later that week, and I haven't heard from her since, except to say "Thank you!" when I texted her "Happy Birthday!"
I shouldn't be so... I mean, should I ever expect otherwise? I don't know what I was thinking. I was thinking "Maybe this time..." but I never know how to finish that sentence. Maybe this time fucking what?
Maybe this time, we'll have more time.
I work so hard for everything, and before I can even finish the work the rewards aren't there any more. I don't remember a single curtain-call during Macbeth. I mean, I remember choreographing it, and waiting for my cue, and that moment where you try to gauge if you should bow again, and running to get the makeup and costume off, but I don't remember receiving the applause. I don't remember being thanked for my work. I know, intellectually, that I was, that's what clapping is: "Thanks for telling us a story and learning how to sword fight, bro!" but I never had that moment of release, where I just let go of time and accept that I am appreciated. And that happened every night for three weeks. An accumulated hour or so of time reserved for me to let go and enjoy the fact that I did something, and I spent it still at work.
Am I like that in my relationships now? Am I so busy working at them that I can't actually have good times? With K gone, it feels like every good time we ever had was shrouded by its contextual weight. I haven't been relaxed in over a year... I had a really fucking good bath last year...
It's at the point where taking time to appreciate the moment is a cosmic event. Three years ago, I was so the opposite that I never got anything done. I don't know which is better.
But it's too late now. K is gone, I never got a curtain-call, and the only thing left to do is keep working at everything else until it's over.