self meet self

self, this is me talking. you need to wake up. be realistic. of course they share a bed. of course they share more. they go to therapy. they live together. they share their lives. you share nothing. please wake up. i beg you. they are liars that value themselves each only and hide that selfishness behind a seemingly noble stance. please, self, open your eyes. he doesnt love you. he never never did. not even for one moment. dont you ever believe he did. he never had any intention for you to be the exception. not for a moment. self, please get off the merry go round. he will never come for you. self, you were labelled the sacrificer. you are still doing it. you have sacrified two years for a bag of shit who would rather cheat a woman out of love, a child out of true family, a soulmate out of connection. self, you dont even know what you want anymore. we're lost, self. your 'who' is so buried in the subconcious of us that you can even tell self what you want. i suspect, self, that you are in defense mode. i suspect, the walls are everywhere. even where you feign they arent...not one soul sees you anymore. some look past and one looks through. but self, no one looks at you. no one can see you because you have mastered the illusion of another self that even you can no longer see.

just music.

no words. out of the energy to pontificate on one soul that couldn't do less to soothe my own.

just some music. good to listen. in a dark room. taste of tears. sound of breath. touch of air. music will hold my bleeding heart....for now.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=905_LAo5uUQ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IzOprKaXQ0

100.

this is my 100th post.
as i review these tiny words of the past in black and white, they are no less precious to me than a milliom pieces of my soul scattered about for common consupmtion.
these words equate pieces of dust that disappear into the wind just as the love behind them must also disappear with no trace. i will succumb to the fact that there are three moments of great irony and happiness buried deep below the tortuous layers of pain in which i am so laboriously tangled within:

1. i found great love. and i tried my hardest to hold on to it. for this i can feel proud because i was able to escape the traps that most fall in to: the deceit that comfort and companionship is love or the trap of blindness and fear in not being able to seize the moment when great love enters your life.

2. i experienced some of the most passionate, loving, earth-moving moments that i ever have, and likely ever will, in my life. for this i can feel proud because on the few occasions i have recounted my love to others - they have looked at me with complete awe and bewilderment. their not being able to relate to the depth of my love, proves to me this was great love.

3. i have taught myself that i do know what unconditional means in a romantic sense - separate from unconditional in the familial sense. for this my heart feels less blackened. i will love this man for the rest of my life and likely will carry parts of him in my soul for all my lives to come. while my pride my ego and my heart may never be mended, at least i can rest knowing not being loved in this life was not because i didn't know how or wasn't willing to learn.

i know these words lay hidden from all and really lay no more exposed than those thoughts in my head that i share with no one. but i hope that someday, when i am gone, everyone that crossed my path in life can know that though i lived with so much pain and unhappiness (all of my own doing, of course)...i did experience truly happy moments that i wouldn't give up for the world.

1977

i suppose every one of the 6 billion people on this earth can say that life never turns out how you think it might when you are small. and i suppose that can be either good or bad.

i suppose that as you grow up thinking the world is your oyster - it is that much harder to realize it is not.

i suppose it makes me wonder amidst a mass of 6 billion people, i couldnt feel more alone. i feel like i have something to offer. but the world keeps telling me i dont.

i have nothing.
no one wants me and no one needs me.
it is a hard reality to swallow. but it is indeed reality.
dead inside.

fail.

i have failed at everything.
the one thing that has been the lone bright spot for me has extinguished.
not good enough for him. not good enough for love. not good enough for profession. not good enough for life.

i am so sick of this.

je ne sais quois

i dont know that i have words right now. but i am distraught. i am tired. i have been crying for so many hours my body, my mind are both numb. i know it is all that should happen. i know this is the way things have to be. but i am so sad. i am sobbing. ashby thinks i am insane. i have thought about a million things. writing to mt to tell her how disappointed i am she turned away. writing chill to tell her not to take my absence as dislike. quitting. all i want to do is quit everything. i dont want to work. i dont want to live. who am i? who is this miserable human? i think i might be an alcholic. i think i might be an addict to pain and suffering. this house has absorbed so many cries of pain...it must be spilling over. i laid on the bathroom floor today. and i wondered about things as different. things as past, present and future. so this is my confession:

my equation for hatred for that bitch, who i can not use nor read her name, is 95% jealousy and only 5% real feeling. she may have been rude to me the first time i met her; cold everytime there after; rude at the bbq when i was trying so hard to reach out; bitchy at the winery. but in the end, she can be a miserable human - but i am the one that did wrong by her.

my hatred for him is grown out of hurt. it is 95% rejection and 5% real feeling. i feel inadequate. as a partner. as a woman. as a person. there is something wrong with me that everyone sees and i cannot. i beg you, god, as i sit her and cry out...just tell me. i dont like being the only one who cannot see.

i deserve nothing and i know it. i am not worthy of love, much less like. i have known for a very long time that i am just different. i always have been on the outskirts of everything - so this should not be a surprise. i just caught up in the feeling of NOT being singular...and a lifetime of longing for that feeling swept me away.

i know everyone is better off without me, especially him. it is not that he defines me. it is not that he is my world. it is that he completes me. and im tired of partially living. so me giving up is not bc of him - it is just bc of me.

why

the monolith breaks.

such a sense of security, those things we consider monoliths. and then they crack. and show weakness. and show vulnerability. and we are already standing on top. and the weakness is scary. it means we have built a base on sand, not on stone as we thought. fucking SAND. no foundation does well on sand. so thus, the end is nearer than we bargained for because the sand is going to take it all. everything we built and fought for is going to be enveloped in a million grains of erasure...with nothing to be left. that is what the memory will be: nothing. that is what tomorrow will know: nothing. as final as death and as painful as life.

dp you wonder how it got to be this. so much everything and so much nothing?

do you wonder if it can be undone when nothing feel reversible?

i feel like there is so much to offer and simultaneously not a shred left.

death is actually more palatable. ive come to that one singular conclusion. it is final. and that loss is acceptable. because it is final so says the world. so says god. but a living choice always has the potential to be undone. and thus, i always hold on to the hope of what could be. even though no one else does. and in the end, i suppose i dont really either. i just like the idea of being a romantic. even though i dont think there is any left in me. i am cultivating the idea of being the wierd old chick in movies and books...the one no one can figure out...the one that doesnt seem like she should be alone, but is. the one that seems like she could have had it all, but doesn't. i know it is up to me. i know i am the only one to change the future. but listen, world. ive chosen. and i dont want to choose again. i put every last energy into something that dissolved. i put every last effort into a force that wanted nothing to do with me. so - yes, does rational me understand that i am the only one to change my being? my path? my outlook? YES. i get it. But does rational you understand i have no will to live without the partner i risked it all for? does rational you have the parallel experience of being a singular person, standing alone...for days, weeks, months and years ALONE? yes...i didnt think so. so fuck you, you rational, sane people. you havent faced the bottom. so dont tell me you know the path to the top.

noun. verb.

i think of two things constnty: a noun. a verb.
today i ponder the verb.
would it be so difficult? scarily, i think not. i try to think through the ramifications. i also try to think of the impetus for it. i often think back to a conversation with, or more so in observance of, my parents. i can picture the exact moment: my dad was on a tangent of how selfish verb was. how could anyone? my mom agreed but at least conceded depression can make people act out...

ramifications:
my parents would be sad
erin would be devastated and so angry. could i put her through this? especially after what she has already been made to endure?
josh and steph would be fine. no change to their lives.
lilly would never know the difference.
sadly, there is no one else to consider. sadly, there is no one else to be affected.

impetus(es) impeti?
i am devastated. i cannot endure constant sadness. can anyone? everything is too much. too much sad. too much lonely. too much lost. too much fear. too much heartbreak. too much shame.

i cannot see the future. any future. nor do i have the will to look harder.

all the things i used to think i wanted out of life....i have lost desire for.

i have been asked by the lofe of my life to go away. i feel there is but one way to honor this bc i know myself and i know my inability to let go. it took 10 years for me to let stacy go after she died. it took me 4 years to understand leland was not right for me. it took me 15 years not to cry on the anniversary of jiddis death (which also coincides with the last day my love touched me). i can only go away in one way.

im less scared of verb than of not.

the last hurdle to swallow is that he wont have the balls to come for the final goodbye; that that bitch who i hate more than life will find pleasure in my pain and in the permanence of my solution as she has stated repeatedly; that i would leave erin alone; that i will be gossiped about.

i think i can take it.

verb.

.

no no no no no no no no. not here again.

i cant do it.