Past and Future

I wake up with a feeling of dread. I am cold. I ache. I do not want to move. The tears flow freely.

All this time, has been a failed attempt to stop up the void or at least embrace the wound that Aaron cut deeper. The past few weeks, realizing that Jonathan does not have feelings for me, that any opportunity we had long since past, that it was only about opening the gateway, here am I facing what I could not face when I attached myself to him.

This time the ice is unrelenting. I find joy within from time to time, but the memory of my weakness and wretched miscommunications force tears to the surface. Remorse is unending and the impossibility of forgiveness is a given. A flicker of a flame hopes that some how some way fate will allow our paths to cross this spring and that by some miracle this pain can end for both of us.

Sometimes, right now, I feel that my home is in his heart. This is ridiculous though I think. I don’t need to be told again. I will never speak to him. Right? He’s made it abundantly clear that he hates me and will never forgive me. That week will haunt me for the rest of my life.

The distance will be getting too close, three or four hours. Here it is an impossible incomprehensible distance and I am in a world in which only I exist, impenetrable to mere mortals, but later this summer… I doubt Encampment has the enchantment factor going for it. It is so close to Bellvue. So what if I am in constant sorrow? One learns to live in the wound.

Yesterday I was dancing in the basement. I came up thinking I would make salad and then load up my pack and get it as heavy as I could and go for a walk, but I was debating just hanging out until it was time for night skating. I ended up going instead to Redding with Joe. We went to Ross and I got some new summer tops and got some groceries at Winco. I got a steak at Safeway and some embroidery floss at Michael’s because my other favorite hoodie is starting to fall apart. I found out that the girlfriend is coming next weekend. I wish I could come up with a plan to not be here, because it will probably make me even more emotionally upset to see two people happy together, knowing all the while that it is an impossible state for me. This could explain the segment of the dream from previously. Date night and Valentine’s Day. How cute! Excuse me while I go vomit.

I stayed up pretty late. I still do not feel like going skiing today. My excuse is that it is the weekend and I slept in too late. It will be crowded. I don’t want to be around people right now. I am cranky. However, I am dressed to go skiing and I am sitting in the sunshine right now. That’s something.

I feel like I should get on laundry and clean the kitchen. I have resigned myself to not having any meaningful relationships and to doing nearly everything on my own. I have absolutely no idea what I will do in the coming months or how I will survive. While one is down on their luck is not the time to be attempting to cement friendships because in the end, it is only money that anyone cares about, or perhaps sex. I have neither of those things to offer, so I sit, and wait. It is freezing in here.


1 Comment

  1. Meredith said,

    February 8, 2010 at 6:08 PM

    He’s made it abundantly clear that he hates me and will never forgive me.


    You don’t need someone like that. You just don’t. You think you’re miserable now, but if you ended up with someone who hates and doesn’t forgive, your life would be hell. Mine was. Yet when I think about him with affection, and I do, I’m still drawn to the person I thought he was rather than to his actual self. The one who hated and couldn’t forgive my flaws. (Possibly I can do this because I once loved him dearly, I don’t hate him now, and forgiveness seems moot for someone who wasn’t at all remorseful. )

    You have good reasons to be depressed, but I sense you’re being too hard on yourself. At the very least, don’t wait for him to change his nature, please just try to learn from your mistakes, whatever they were, and forgive yourself for being human.

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