(no subject)
You have and would do what for me?
Shield my eyes from reality like you would a child?
Instances abound like: a bizarre and too sudden not to be contrived mention of a dedication to celibacy, and the kid gloves are on. A forced conversation too focused on all the failures of dating around, barely draped
over an ostensible need to experience new intimacy, that regardless I would rather not hear about. Vague pronouns thinly veiling the all too obvious reoccurring male characters, and on stage and in life what good is a male without some involvement with his dick? Age old human nature.
Clouded head, and the words come out slowly, but the meaning seeps and leaks from my head.
It's all been not fun, condescending garbage that is just so reminiscent of all those times in our past she kept everything a float with the duct tape of endless white lies and placation that in itself is sickening, but when the nigger-rigged curtains did finally fall it added an extra layer of humiliation and shame in a way I can't quite articulate.
I need only to let myself be reminded of it, just flashes and fragments would suffice, to quell the misplaced love that still throbs sometimes, makes me more likely to drop what I'm doing to help her with a problem, or to be consumed like a madman with the idea of fucking her after being in her presence for a while.
Even now that things are over, the feeling that someone has the upper hand , and it isnt me is still pervasive in all interactions with her. Probably a result of our ultimately unchanged, just unused, dynamic, and speaking for myself, a lack of personal growth.
Excuses to bail, avoiding the issue, and pushing to the back of my mind once again about what New York City implies.
Besides, to care at this point would be childish, wouldn't it buddy?
Buck up.
And grab some of that bravery you keep saying you desperately need to destroy your failsafes and tripwire alarms, emerge from the caverns and engage in the game of life. You know it's the only way to stop reacting to the past in that familiar neurotic way, even if you're pumped full of the pharma that make it feel far away, and make you feel like alone is a paradise, and therefore all too easy to disregard any feeling rather quickly,
Regardless of its nature. that's the very thing preventing you from being a person instead of a ghost with a job, and a past made of glass shards that get lightly fondled when she thinks she misses you.