Thursday, August 03, 2000

Fool



J never came home. It's 4am and I don't bother any more to pay attention to the sound of every car in the neighborhood, since now it's people starting to get up and go to work.

No matter what my head knows, no matter that I understand things all to well, my stoopid emotions just never change their behavior. My heart is just such a sucker for affection. It feels so good just to be able to rest my head in a caring lap, and to touch and be touched -- and after getting drawn in, when it all disappears, it's such gut wrenching agony.

J wanted someone to dote over her, and someone to believe in whatever she said. Basically, someone to be in love with her. And I couldn't do that, at least I didn't think I could, because of my own emotions and because I understand her pretty well. What I could do was enjoy her company and be good and honest with her -- so much harder to do, and better I think. Sad. I don't doubt she loves me, as she repeats constantly, and yet she's in the arms of another boy at this instant. Gee, thanks.

Took a walk around midnight into the fields behind the house (I say "fields" but it's miles and miles, all the way up and around the volcano). God, the stars are beautiful here -- the milky way splashed across the sky. It gave me a moment of emotional peace to stretch my brain to encompass the scale of what I was staring up into. No greater reminder of the utter insignificance of human concerns. I remember, from when I was little, taking my father's fifty pound, navy issue sleeping bag out onto the deck in front of my room almost every night, so I could sleep under them. It's so amazing to see all of those suns, scattered and stretching into the distance until they are no longer individually discernible, but merge into the glowing disk of galaxy.

Love is so messed up. People talk about it as if it were more than an affliction of brain chemistry that seizes up thinking and constricts one's gut. I'd so much prefer to be enjoyed for who I am, to have someone care for me because they liked who I was, and the passions I chose to pursue, and my twisted humor. But no, all I get is proclamations of love -- as if this illness, so often fleeting, were more significant or lasting than a real apreciation.

J tells me that she loves me, and it seems very important to her that I know that she loves me so very much, as if she were giving me something. But what the fuck does that mean when she's telling me that the same day she's kissing someone else? I know all to well, actually. She just wants acknowledgment and appreciation for her suffering.

I'm going to be so lonely again. Being with J made up such a huge part of my day to day life, and I was starting to love her too, against my better judgment. But alas, her bond to me was only based on love, and not something stronger. And now, all of that attention and affection shared, turned in an instant and shared with someone else. So I'm alone again, and hurting. Stoopid heart. I hope my friend R can come through on his pledge to let me use his airpass to visit California in a week or two -- ah, The Burn, don't want to miss it. Otherwise, well, otherwise I'm going to be in this miserable situation for a while.

[Prev | Index | Next]


gar@lisi.com