you were warned; I really need to get this out...

[thehefner]

Well, since I don't have ball cancer, which is good, that means the angst is back. Well, it was never really gone. Just went into remission for awhile. I just really need to get this out. It's a long one, be warned. You know the drill, and I won't hold it against you if you just move along.

How can my mood go for so good... well, ok, at least... crashing down into this? Is it just because I'm tired as hell? I should sleep soon anyway. Looks like we're not going to Nation after all, since I haven't heard back either way. Mom would say I need to get to the gym and exercise more, but I tell you, all that wonderful energy that everyone hypes, exercise does not help me for the simple reason that it doesn't occupy my mind, and that when I work out all I'm thinking about is... what's on my mind.

This sucks, man. Every other goddamn thing reminds me of everything I should not be thinking about, just like last summer. Maybe I really should try talking to people about this shit after all, because when I don't talk about it, it just swirls in my head and I go crazy. No, I mean, nights like this I feel literally crazy. When I'm driving alone, I will occasionally get into conversations, so into them that it'll be about a minute before I realize that I'm talking to no one. I mean, I've always talked to myself. But I've never gotten so into it before. No wait, scratch that, that's not entirely true. I used to do that, but regarding my father.

What do I need? The support of my friends? Yes, I know I have that, but I feel guilty wearing them out. Many of you are understandably frustrated, and hell, I know I would be too. I should probably go back to Al-Anon, since it could well be argued that this all links up to my father. Maybe I should find another counselor here, but I can't afford one. Talking puts it in perspective, even if all it seems like is me wallowing. It actually is progress, just very... slow... acting.

But still, as much as it'll help to hang out with friends, get away from my father, and go to work regularly, giving myself that purpose I so deeply need, it doesn't change the fundamental problem.



What it comes down to is, I just want what everyone else wants.

I want to be considered important. I want somebody to think that I'm just amazing. I want my thoughts and opinions valued and respected. I want somebody who wants to share what I bring to share, and who will take what I have to offer. I want to be loved for who I am, neuroses, paranoia, intensity and all. I want to be one of the most important, if not the most important, people to someone. I want to be central in their thoughts. I want someone who isn't afraid to own up to their feelings to respect me for who I am, admit to those feelings instead of pulling away, and love me.

I want all of this from someone I give my heart to, and that's the trick- those people aren't very common. Two have accepted it, but only because they offered theirs up first. A handful of others have not, and that's ok, we're still friends. But as desperately as I want to be loved, there are only very few people that I do love or could potentially love. That I know about, of course.

Here's what's gotten me all worked up about this. The fact that I was fucking stupid enough to go on her LJ to see, displayed right out there for me to read, decent-sized entries of her swooning over Clancy. It's clear that she's falling for him, which doesn't surprise me. That's not what's upset me so much. It's the fact that what got me checking her LJ out in the first place (which I haven't been doing at all, give me credit enough for that, because it's a stupid fucking thing to be doing) was that I was cleaning out all my old e-mails.

Among the letters I found were one of the earliest ones from almost exactly a year ago. I don't know if it's in bad taste to reprint this here, so someone tell me so if it is and I'll remove it. Keep in mind the date, May 12th, and some of you may recall that this was during Oedipus. Most of you will recall how I was then, and may even remember the LJ entry I made on it. The e-mail said:

"Hey, how's it going?
I just read your livejournal entry and I guess I just wanted to comment,
for whatever reason. I'm sure everybody says this, but I'm going to go
ahead anyhow... Even though I don't really know what is going on in your
life because I don't really know your friends and stuff, if you need
anyone to talk to about anything, I'm here for you. I know it might sound
cheesy, but sometimes just talking about stuff is a good thing, and
sometimes having an unbiased third party is also a good thing. Well, I
just say this because I care about you and your well-being, so don't take
this the wrong way (if you can take it in a wrong way. Geez, I'm so
paranoid.)
I guess I'll talk to you later sometime, if not sooner, then later.
Bye for now."

There are a number of levels to my reaction to this letter. One is the fact that she was so concerned at how I was feeling, that she, along with several other of my closest friends, jumped right up to offer her help. Another level is the tone of the letter near the end, how neurotic she is, so concerned about making a good impression because she's clearly so smitten with me, and the reminder that she actually was deeply smitten with me. And another level is the fact that... that I'm going through it all over again.

So I got all good and nostalgic, and thought, "well, I feel bad already, I don't imagine there'll be any harm in my checking her LJ." Stupid, stupid, stupid. But again, it's not what she was saying that really bothered me. It was the fact that she's feeling for him what she felt for me a year ago. That's what really sucks, what really fucking hurts.

It's gone. She's gone. I know. I've accepted this. I'm never going to get it back from her. I know I'm just considered a source of pain and stress to her, that I'm not fun to be around, I accept this. I used to think I could be friends with her, or as I said to Tammy once upon a time ago, back when we were doing As You Like It, "So holy and so perfect is my love, and I in such a poverty of grace, that I shall think it a most plenteous crop to gleam the broken ears after the man that the main harvest reaps. Loose now and then a scattered smile and that I'll live upon." But I can't live upon it, not that alone. I can't.

The point (hey, even I'd forgotten I had one) is that ever since Tammy, I haven't been fundamentally "ok." Not, that is, save for those two precious weeks in February when Misty and I were together. Not since that morning when I woke up next to her and realized that I loved her.

You see, before Tammy, I was just like most people. I'd say, "Yeah, life sucks, but I'm ok." Well, I'm not "ok" anymore, because now I have a very specific want, a singular need, and I feel like everything else around me- comics, movies, friends, mom, exercise, DDR, girls- are all just distractions, temporarily taking my mind off the problem but never easing it. I haven't been happy in a long time, save for those two weeks, when I finally had what I'd wanted so badly and everything was just ok. It wasn't like Tammy, where even the best moments had that underlying knowledge that this was doomed. Everything was ok. I was at peace.

That's the problem. I feel like until I get that again, I'm just not going to be happy. And every time something reminds me of her, whether it's the songs on the radio or her boyfriend's name appearing everywhere in bookstores, video stores, and video games, it drives me fucking insane because I remember that what I had is gone. That the rare thing had happened, someone I loved felt that way about me, and then took it back. I know it'll happen again someday, but the fact was I can't imagine it, not really, because I don't know who it is or how it'll be.

All I can imagine is the memory, the simple joy of how nice it was to wake up to find her next to me. And until I find someone to replace her, I don't know if I'll ever be able to remember otherwise. That's the problem.

Comments

[morganashkevron.livejournal.com]

Nope...it feels like you'll never be happy for more than 2 minutes at a time and even that will be a rare occasion. It's like a hyperbola (yay math) where the line curves up and gets higher which is my dorkorific way of saying the whole feeling better thing is an exponential process - it starts small and slow bu then it builds up steam and suddenly the good stuff outweighs the bad and everything is right with the world.