Guts on the Floor
Aug. 9th, 2007 09:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormI was s*t*r*e*t*c*h*e*d s*o t*h*i*n with trying, even when I wasn't doing anything. I feel stretched out of shape still, loose and baggy around my life, like a casement rather than the thing itself.
He was a stabilising influence. I'm not stable, though. Instead I'll reuse my old cork metaphor, where ya pull me down and I pop back up as soon as ya let go.
I felt like I had to be so careful, and I still always failed. And then I hurt him. And it went on. I think I'm less of a good person for letting it go on and on like that. I'm less human for hurting him so consistently for so long.
We never did get along when it was just us, and we also never did get along when I was with someone else. We got along when we were *together*, but we couldn't spend all our time together.
I'm still not sure whether he liked what I am. I know, in the beginning, he said I was very brave. That was when I had fallen in love with him, and he not yet with me. He thought that sort of tumbling rush and wholesale commitment to the emotion was a sign of bravery, which it wasn't. Possibly it's a sign of strength that i can love people who don't love me back, because whatever devastation loving someone has caused it's never actually damaged me, merely made me feel hurt. I believe that it's more likely simply a sign of honesty. Those feelings are *there*, and I'm okay with people knowing. That's all.
I saw Avi last night. He made me dinner and gave me a stern talking to. He told me that somehow this reckless rush through people's lives, where I plunge in and knock a few heads bfore everyone decides it's too hard before retiring with bruises and bloody noses, he told me that's okay. I don't know if I believe it, but it was good to hear. It made me feel human again, and loved, and I remember once again how incredibly blessed I am in the company I keep.
After that I spent the night with Angus, staying up way too late and low-level angsting. That boy makes me feel so young again, and it picks at the corners of my jaded poly been-there done-that scab that I've acquired lately. Sometimes I feel like I'll suddenly find myself back in a field of daisies in Heritage Park in Mission, where Kynnin and I used to hang out when we skipped school (it's *always* a good idea to have a high school full of horny teenagers surrounded by a big wild forest and park). If I soak it like that long enough, the whole thing's gonna come off. There might be fresh pink skin underneath, who knew? It might even be flexible and soft and sensitive to light touches.
Meanwhile my steps are lighter, and I am hit occasionally with deep flashes of uncontrollable pain and crying. Bob continues to love me and to accept with a shrug who I am and what I do. That is so inexpressibly soothing. If you're his friend, be extra nice to him in the next little bit. I'm sort of all over the place, and he has to live with that. This is where one of those poly-sucks things comes in: he doesn't deserve to be confined in a place with me when I'm doing post-breakup self-destruction, nor does booting someone out of a cohabiting relationship for a couple of months while I heal feel at all fair. Bah, logistics!
I feel guilty that I feel so light. Burdens mostly removed, the only remaining ones are weightless. He loved me very deeply. That's not a thing to make light of. I need to stop writing now, I'm just flailing for something.
He was a stabilising influence. I'm not stable, though. Instead I'll reuse my old cork metaphor, where ya pull me down and I pop back up as soon as ya let go.
I felt like I had to be so careful, and I still always failed. And then I hurt him. And it went on. I think I'm less of a good person for letting it go on and on like that. I'm less human for hurting him so consistently for so long.
We never did get along when it was just us, and we also never did get along when I was with someone else. We got along when we were *together*, but we couldn't spend all our time together.
I'm still not sure whether he liked what I am. I know, in the beginning, he said I was very brave. That was when I had fallen in love with him, and he not yet with me. He thought that sort of tumbling rush and wholesale commitment to the emotion was a sign of bravery, which it wasn't. Possibly it's a sign of strength that i can love people who don't love me back, because whatever devastation loving someone has caused it's never actually damaged me, merely made me feel hurt. I believe that it's more likely simply a sign of honesty. Those feelings are *there*, and I'm okay with people knowing. That's all.
I saw Avi last night. He made me dinner and gave me a stern talking to. He told me that somehow this reckless rush through people's lives, where I plunge in and knock a few heads bfore everyone decides it's too hard before retiring with bruises and bloody noses, he told me that's okay. I don't know if I believe it, but it was good to hear. It made me feel human again, and loved, and I remember once again how incredibly blessed I am in the company I keep.
After that I spent the night with Angus, staying up way too late and low-level angsting. That boy makes me feel so young again, and it picks at the corners of my jaded poly been-there done-that scab that I've acquired lately. Sometimes I feel like I'll suddenly find myself back in a field of daisies in Heritage Park in Mission, where Kynnin and I used to hang out when we skipped school (it's *always* a good idea to have a high school full of horny teenagers surrounded by a big wild forest and park). If I soak it like that long enough, the whole thing's gonna come off. There might be fresh pink skin underneath, who knew? It might even be flexible and soft and sensitive to light touches.
Meanwhile my steps are lighter, and I am hit occasionally with deep flashes of uncontrollable pain and crying. Bob continues to love me and to accept with a shrug who I am and what I do. That is so inexpressibly soothing. If you're his friend, be extra nice to him in the next little bit. I'm sort of all over the place, and he has to live with that. This is where one of those poly-sucks things comes in: he doesn't deserve to be confined in a place with me when I'm doing post-breakup self-destruction, nor does booting someone out of a cohabiting relationship for a couple of months while I heal feel at all fair. Bah, logistics!
I feel guilty that I feel so light. Burdens mostly removed, the only remaining ones are weightless. He loved me very deeply. That's not a thing to make light of. I need to stop writing now, I'm just flailing for something.
