I'm back, I guess.
New year, new writings. I'm long overdue for one of these. My head is so shot through with holes I can feel wind blowing through them. I don't even know how to put any of this in order, so, I keeping with my idiom, I will write it as it comes. Big things. Girls. Always girls seem to be the problem. I feel like such a dork writing this, to the point where I'm smiling at how silly it is. Girls are tough to deal with, and I find I can't live without them, either. Nevermind that most of my friends here are girls. Heck, most of my friends period are girls. Speaking of periods (no this is not a tasteless joke), I'm writing in strange, clipped sentences. Either I'm building up to something or I'm irritated about something. Let's keep writing so I can find out. But seriously, nothing in my life has really given me more trouble than girls. I'm pretty laid back about life, and anything I'm unable to fight in some way, I can allow myself to be swept up by the current. But girls (I'm using girls as a general here but we both know who I'm talking about) stir up those currents, leave me gasping for breath and dying, and leave me wanting more. It's one of life's perverse little tricks that, were I not so amused by them, would leave me very depressed.
And really, it's pretty funny, looked at objectively. The closer I get to people(girls), the more I get hurt, and the more connection I want. But that's just human nature and the way the world works. If you want to get close to people, you open up your boundaries, invite yourself to get hurt, and try not to take more psychic pain than you get psychic pleasure. That sounds really dark and negative the way I phrased it, but I don't look at it negatively. It's just life, and I like life, so I deal with it. But boy howdy, does leaving your barriers open invite a whopping of your psyche. You may notice that I'm dancing around something here, or perhaps you hadn't noticed, but in any case I can see in myself that I am trying to avoid coming right out and saying it. Even that last sentence was far more dramatic and flowery than it had to be to get its point across. So was that one.
ANYWAY, the only people reading this already know the cause of my restlessness. Deirdre, of course, but now how her name seems to burn on the page as I write it. Long story short, we're no longer even friends, because it's too difficult and awkward. We're very comfortable with eachother, and we can tell eachother many things we cannot tell others, but it's too difficult, so the clear other option is to cease all contact. Because, you see, being comfortable and honest are weaknesses when you're trying to be simply friends with an ex-lover. Lovers once, friends tried, so what's left? Stranger, or enemy. That's all there is in life. Family, lovers, friends, strangers and enemies. It's one of the very, very few things I think are black and white. When I talk to someone for the first time, I subconsciously put them in one of those categories, and base my observations off that in my further dealings with them. And, hey, you know what? So do you. Think really hard about someone you dislike, why you dislike them, and why they're in that zone of dislike instead of your friends. But this is all just fluff. What do I really want to say?
The french (ME) have a saying; l'esprit de l'escalier, the spirit of the staircase. Set the scene: You're at a party, and someone gets off a particularly well-thought and poignant zing about you. Everyone laughs, and you search for something to say to riposte. But you have no comebacks, so you stay silent, and laugh with the others. Much later, the party winds down, you say your goodbyes and set down the staircase. That's when it hits you. The perfect, biting comeback, that would have shut the laughs off like a tap and reduced your opponent to a shocked, awed silence. But it's of course, much too late now. And out of the corner of your eye, l'esprit de l'escalier floats, laughing. Boom. The french got you again.
What, you ask, the fuck does this have to do with anything. Well, no, if you can't see the connections there I'm afraid you're going into the 'enemies' bin. No, I kid, but still, shush and read. Days after our MSN conversation in which she told me in no uncertain terms that I was a danger and an irritant to her 'new' life, I burn with things that I want to say to her. No, I'm holding back here, to yell at her. Things like 'Fuck you, stop being a condescending bitch and if you have a problem with me, bloody phone me up and talk to me instead of taking the coward's way out', and various other sentences containing choice words like Fuck, Bitch, Coward, Fool, Coward, Coward! I want to believe that now, at this point, should she turn around and want to talk to me, I'd keep my walls up to her trickery and simply say 'Fuck off, you've made your choice clear. Deal with the consequences.'
But I'm not certain at all that's what I'd do, and that's what's pissing me off (wow that's actually really neat because I only realized that while I wrote it). I'm tired of the ups and downs, and sad and angry as this makes me, I can feel a small part of me inside, a part that I tried to squash and hide, but that is growing steadily stronger say 'Fucking FINALLY!'. When I first read what she was writing me, my OVERWHELMING sensation was not, as I would have expected, sadness, but rather boredom, irritation, and the knowledge that this kind of grand gesture is exactly the kind of thing she's done before in the past, and that maybe this would be the last time I would have to put up with that shit.
It's never that easy, though. After I blocked her, allowed my rage and anguish to subside a bit, I considered that it might actually be the last time I talked to her. And I don't mean this in the emo, angsty 'last time evur' kind of way, I mean as in maybe I won't ever talk to her again. I'm sure I'll see her again and exchange the socially required pleasantries, but I feel betrayed, and the one thing that I feel to the core of my being is that traitors have no place in my circle. I just kind of hoped that she would never be someone I would have to do that with. You told me once, very early on, that you were a difficult person to deal with, to be with, but I thought I could handle it. Hey, guess what? I couldn't, or you couldn't, and now it's completely fallen to pieces.
And really, it's pretty funny, looked at objectively. The closer I get to people(girls), the more I get hurt, and the more connection I want. But that's just human nature and the way the world works. If you want to get close to people, you open up your boundaries, invite yourself to get hurt, and try not to take more psychic pain than you get psychic pleasure. That sounds really dark and negative the way I phrased it, but I don't look at it negatively. It's just life, and I like life, so I deal with it. But boy howdy, does leaving your barriers open invite a whopping of your psyche. You may notice that I'm dancing around something here, or perhaps you hadn't noticed, but in any case I can see in myself that I am trying to avoid coming right out and saying it. Even that last sentence was far more dramatic and flowery than it had to be to get its point across. So was that one.
ANYWAY, the only people reading this already know the cause of my restlessness. Deirdre, of course, but now how her name seems to burn on the page as I write it. Long story short, we're no longer even friends, because it's too difficult and awkward. We're very comfortable with eachother, and we can tell eachother many things we cannot tell others, but it's too difficult, so the clear other option is to cease all contact. Because, you see, being comfortable and honest are weaknesses when you're trying to be simply friends with an ex-lover. Lovers once, friends tried, so what's left? Stranger, or enemy. That's all there is in life. Family, lovers, friends, strangers and enemies. It's one of the very, very few things I think are black and white. When I talk to someone for the first time, I subconsciously put them in one of those categories, and base my observations off that in my further dealings with them. And, hey, you know what? So do you. Think really hard about someone you dislike, why you dislike them, and why they're in that zone of dislike instead of your friends. But this is all just fluff. What do I really want to say?
The french (ME) have a saying; l'esprit de l'escalier, the spirit of the staircase. Set the scene: You're at a party, and someone gets off a particularly well-thought and poignant zing about you. Everyone laughs, and you search for something to say to riposte. But you have no comebacks, so you stay silent, and laugh with the others. Much later, the party winds down, you say your goodbyes and set down the staircase. That's when it hits you. The perfect, biting comeback, that would have shut the laughs off like a tap and reduced your opponent to a shocked, awed silence. But it's of course, much too late now. And out of the corner of your eye, l'esprit de l'escalier floats, laughing. Boom. The french got you again.
What, you ask, the fuck does this have to do with anything. Well, no, if you can't see the connections there I'm afraid you're going into the 'enemies' bin. No, I kid, but still, shush and read. Days after our MSN conversation in which she told me in no uncertain terms that I was a danger and an irritant to her 'new' life, I burn with things that I want to say to her. No, I'm holding back here, to yell at her. Things like 'Fuck you, stop being a condescending bitch and if you have a problem with me, bloody phone me up and talk to me instead of taking the coward's way out', and various other sentences containing choice words like Fuck, Bitch, Coward, Fool, Coward, Coward! I want to believe that now, at this point, should she turn around and want to talk to me, I'd keep my walls up to her trickery and simply say 'Fuck off, you've made your choice clear. Deal with the consequences.'
But I'm not certain at all that's what I'd do, and that's what's pissing me off (wow that's actually really neat because I only realized that while I wrote it). I'm tired of the ups and downs, and sad and angry as this makes me, I can feel a small part of me inside, a part that I tried to squash and hide, but that is growing steadily stronger say 'Fucking FINALLY!'. When I first read what she was writing me, my OVERWHELMING sensation was not, as I would have expected, sadness, but rather boredom, irritation, and the knowledge that this kind of grand gesture is exactly the kind of thing she's done before in the past, and that maybe this would be the last time I would have to put up with that shit.
It's never that easy, though. After I blocked her, allowed my rage and anguish to subside a bit, I considered that it might actually be the last time I talked to her. And I don't mean this in the emo, angsty 'last time evur' kind of way, I mean as in maybe I won't ever talk to her again. I'm sure I'll see her again and exchange the socially required pleasantries, but I feel betrayed, and the one thing that I feel to the core of my being is that traitors have no place in my circle. I just kind of hoped that she would never be someone I would have to do that with. You told me once, very early on, that you were a difficult person to deal with, to be with, but I thought I could handle it. Hey, guess what? I couldn't, or you couldn't, and now it's completely fallen to pieces.