Tough Love
Right, that's bullshit. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I just told the woman I have loved for years, to basically fuck off. I have caused irreparable harm to our relationship again, maybe even worse than before, probably the worst I could. I think I've gone a little crazy. Maybe I've hit a tipping point, or maybe I've just convinced myself I have. Or maybe I've just hit a new low. Alienation seems to be my goal, though I've made no conscious decision of that fact.
We fight, we have for years. About stupid shit, about things neither of us really cares about in the grand scheme. This is real. This is consequential shit that matters. I'm making arguments that I don't honestly believe in. I'm being contradictory to my own wants and desires. I'm pushing what I care most about away. Damn the consequences.
I have been influenced by people who I respect. I resisted the influence for a very long time. I made a decision, but wait I didn't. I have a bad habit of not actually making decisions. It stems from a part of my personality that does not want to let anything go. I will do anything I can to hold on to something, long after I really should or need to. But the fact in this case is that I'm not even sure if that is wrong. I can't even make the basic decision of whether this is something I should hold on to or not. The indecision, the endless cycle of contradictions, of faith in hopes that died long ago, is simple the base source of my misery. And it makes me angry.
She told me I'm a miserable person. She is right. She always is about me. How did I ever get like that? I think it started from outside. Somewhere along the line, how I was treated or not treated, what I was told or what I experienced made me miserable. I think over time that became a part of me. And now that source of misery comes from that part inside. Like some subconscious suggestion that I should be miserable, that I deserve to be. So I lash out and create the situation myself, for myself. If for no other reason than to make it true. But that sounds too much like an excuse. I'm not always like that. I haven't always been like that. And I'm damn good at putting on a show in public.
But I've nothing to care about right now. I haven't for a long while. I struggle in little fits to try and find something or someone that provides me an excuse not to be so careless. Not to be that way I am. It goes in spurts of activity. I look, or I stumble, or I simply forget. But then it ends, and I am right back where I started. With no one to blame but myself, and no one to tell me otherwise.
The person who knows me best. She can predict my reactions, and read me as if she were in my head. She is the one I am pushing away now. That final little ray that I have been clutching onto like driftwood for a drowning man. I have for some reason unknown to myself decided to cast her aside, or out, literally and figuratively.
And we had our fight. The first of many such battles to come probably. Maybe I have truly confused her for the first time in years I think. I did something unpredictable. Contradicted myself as well, at least on the surface. I haven't said anything that I haven't thought about time and again, and rejected in turn every time. But there are reasons I kept those thoughts to myself, let alone told her even when I tell her everything else.
I am an idiot of epic proportions. I am self destructing on a scale that few are capable of. Creating a path of ruin that will consume the one that I love even if it is unrequited. Perhaps I have decided that I should have the subject of my only true happiness so close. Perhaps I have decided that I do not deserve even that much. I don't know and I don't care.
I dream sometimes, when I remember what I dream, that things are not this way. I dream that events happened differently. I dream that I am who I was trying to be, that I had succeeded. But I am honestly hollow. I go through the motions of an honorable man, and I firmly believe in them. I do not regret the decisions I have made that have led to where I am. I just wish that I had been faced with different decisions. That I could truly call myself an honorable man. That I wasn't so damn annoying.
As I look back and forward in my life, I'm not thrilled with anything that I see. Regrets of the things I did and did not do. Worry that I will never have or experience the things I want to. Sorrow at the things that I missed entirely and will never have the opportunity at again. And anger at the opportunities that I did not even have or walked away from myself. But I guess that everyone's life is like that. They eventually find a balance that makes them at least content. It feels silly and shallow to think that I may not find even that. I don't believe in depression, or at least that it is inescapable. I have spoke of and written many times about my disdain for those who think they cannot help themselves out of it. I am not one of those people. I have the will power and strength to push myself out of this. I have done it before. I'm just not sure I want to. Or maybe I feel that I need to dig deeper before I deserve to.
Maybe I am making myself pay for mistakes I made, especially to this woman for whom I care so much. Or maybe I am using her as a convenient target for my restitution. I believe the former over the latter.
Another approach to what I may be feeling is a kind of scorched earth policy. I am trying to burn everything down that is holding me to the painful past, at the expense of everyone associated with it. So then I can move on and forward. I don't think it's a good policy but I'm not sure I would stop myself. I doubt this is the case, I do not operate like that.
We haven't touched in years. Maybe it ends how it begins. As I think about it, I get a tingle in my arms. Like something is missing, or maybe it is more like an urging. For years after we met, we never touched. We suddenly realized it one night, about the same time we realized our feelings for each other. Maybe because of that I have always associated the two. I put it from my mind because it is impossible. By my own making I have forfeited that right.
I really am terrible. I do these things to people I care about as if there is an evil in me that I cannot control. I have done terrible things, things I do not speak of or think about for fear that those who know me now would no longer associate with me. I wouldn't blame them. Things I have told no one, not even her. Maybe someday I will. Maybe someday will never come. But when I do these things, I feel outside of myself in a way. I can not for the life of me describe what is in my mind at that point in time. It is like a reality where there are no consequences. Thought doesn't register. I am not rejecting responsibility, or offering an excuse. I am just as confused by it as anyone would be.
I really am just terrible, that is all there is to it. The look in her wet eyes as I forced my way in for the last word should have stopped me. Should have made me realize right then and there that I do not deserve any of her consideration. But I blurted out anyway, probably the worse thing I could think of in that moment. It wasn't spite, I had no reason for spite. It wasn't to be mean either, I'm not typically a mean person. It was simply to push away. To further drive her from me. To make her all the more angry at me. To hate me more than. I do not know why, but that is the end of it.
This whole thing has been overly dramatic, and I feel embarrassed. It feels contrived and imagined. Enlarged beyond what it really is. But that doesn't change the way I feel. Complex emotions are hard to describe, perhaps it is the overall emotion or feeling of this post that should really be considered and not it's content.
We fight, we have for years. About stupid shit, about things neither of us really cares about in the grand scheme. This is real. This is consequential shit that matters. I'm making arguments that I don't honestly believe in. I'm being contradictory to my own wants and desires. I'm pushing what I care most about away. Damn the consequences.
I have been influenced by people who I respect. I resisted the influence for a very long time. I made a decision, but wait I didn't. I have a bad habit of not actually making decisions. It stems from a part of my personality that does not want to let anything go. I will do anything I can to hold on to something, long after I really should or need to. But the fact in this case is that I'm not even sure if that is wrong. I can't even make the basic decision of whether this is something I should hold on to or not. The indecision, the endless cycle of contradictions, of faith in hopes that died long ago, is simple the base source of my misery. And it makes me angry.
She told me I'm a miserable person. She is right. She always is about me. How did I ever get like that? I think it started from outside. Somewhere along the line, how I was treated or not treated, what I was told or what I experienced made me miserable. I think over time that became a part of me. And now that source of misery comes from that part inside. Like some subconscious suggestion that I should be miserable, that I deserve to be. So I lash out and create the situation myself, for myself. If for no other reason than to make it true. But that sounds too much like an excuse. I'm not always like that. I haven't always been like that. And I'm damn good at putting on a show in public.
But I've nothing to care about right now. I haven't for a long while. I struggle in little fits to try and find something or someone that provides me an excuse not to be so careless. Not to be that way I am. It goes in spurts of activity. I look, or I stumble, or I simply forget. But then it ends, and I am right back where I started. With no one to blame but myself, and no one to tell me otherwise.
The person who knows me best. She can predict my reactions, and read me as if she were in my head. She is the one I am pushing away now. That final little ray that I have been clutching onto like driftwood for a drowning man. I have for some reason unknown to myself decided to cast her aside, or out, literally and figuratively.
And we had our fight. The first of many such battles to come probably. Maybe I have truly confused her for the first time in years I think. I did something unpredictable. Contradicted myself as well, at least on the surface. I haven't said anything that I haven't thought about time and again, and rejected in turn every time. But there are reasons I kept those thoughts to myself, let alone told her even when I tell her everything else.
I am an idiot of epic proportions. I am self destructing on a scale that few are capable of. Creating a path of ruin that will consume the one that I love even if it is unrequited. Perhaps I have decided that I should have the subject of my only true happiness so close. Perhaps I have decided that I do not deserve even that much. I don't know and I don't care.
I dream sometimes, when I remember what I dream, that things are not this way. I dream that events happened differently. I dream that I am who I was trying to be, that I had succeeded. But I am honestly hollow. I go through the motions of an honorable man, and I firmly believe in them. I do not regret the decisions I have made that have led to where I am. I just wish that I had been faced with different decisions. That I could truly call myself an honorable man. That I wasn't so damn annoying.
As I look back and forward in my life, I'm not thrilled with anything that I see. Regrets of the things I did and did not do. Worry that I will never have or experience the things I want to. Sorrow at the things that I missed entirely and will never have the opportunity at again. And anger at the opportunities that I did not even have or walked away from myself. But I guess that everyone's life is like that. They eventually find a balance that makes them at least content. It feels silly and shallow to think that I may not find even that. I don't believe in depression, or at least that it is inescapable. I have spoke of and written many times about my disdain for those who think they cannot help themselves out of it. I am not one of those people. I have the will power and strength to push myself out of this. I have done it before. I'm just not sure I want to. Or maybe I feel that I need to dig deeper before I deserve to.
Maybe I am making myself pay for mistakes I made, especially to this woman for whom I care so much. Or maybe I am using her as a convenient target for my restitution. I believe the former over the latter.
Another approach to what I may be feeling is a kind of scorched earth policy. I am trying to burn everything down that is holding me to the painful past, at the expense of everyone associated with it. So then I can move on and forward. I don't think it's a good policy but I'm not sure I would stop myself. I doubt this is the case, I do not operate like that.
We haven't touched in years. Maybe it ends how it begins. As I think about it, I get a tingle in my arms. Like something is missing, or maybe it is more like an urging. For years after we met, we never touched. We suddenly realized it one night, about the same time we realized our feelings for each other. Maybe because of that I have always associated the two. I put it from my mind because it is impossible. By my own making I have forfeited that right.
I really am terrible. I do these things to people I care about as if there is an evil in me that I cannot control. I have done terrible things, things I do not speak of or think about for fear that those who know me now would no longer associate with me. I wouldn't blame them. Things I have told no one, not even her. Maybe someday I will. Maybe someday will never come. But when I do these things, I feel outside of myself in a way. I can not for the life of me describe what is in my mind at that point in time. It is like a reality where there are no consequences. Thought doesn't register. I am not rejecting responsibility, or offering an excuse. I am just as confused by it as anyone would be.
I really am just terrible, that is all there is to it. The look in her wet eyes as I forced my way in for the last word should have stopped me. Should have made me realize right then and there that I do not deserve any of her consideration. But I blurted out anyway, probably the worse thing I could think of in that moment. It wasn't spite, I had no reason for spite. It wasn't to be mean either, I'm not typically a mean person. It was simply to push away. To further drive her from me. To make her all the more angry at me. To hate me more than. I do not know why, but that is the end of it.
This whole thing has been overly dramatic, and I feel embarrassed. It feels contrived and imagined. Enlarged beyond what it really is. But that doesn't change the way I feel. Complex emotions are hard to describe, perhaps it is the overall emotion or feeling of this post that should really be considered and not it's content.