breaking point

I am not happy with N.

I feel like I’m at the point of wanting to take my toys and go home. as much as I like him, it’s not enough to make up for his persistent lack of effort and attention. I need to be more foregrounded than this. maybe what I ask for is a lot. maybe it is more than anyone could deliver and/or maybe it will mean that I’ll spend the majority of my life alone. so be it.

if I am with someone, I want to be with that person– not randomly, casually, occasionally the site of his touching down only to take off again. if that is the pattern, there would need to be a lot more carrier pigeons from the air.

I’m not a priority. I’m not the center, only peripheral, one of several options.

fuck that. I do not want it. I do not, apparently, want free love. if this is his version of building toward something, it doesn’t work for me. I am feeling no building, only eroding– what I felt for him initially is being eaten away by absence and neglect. it’s not something that simply, spontaneously persists with little or no effort or care. it requires attention and reciprocity.

maybe I’m foolish to draw this line in the sand– but I’m not getting what I need– and the frustration and irritation are outweighing the pleasure.

I’m tired of being the one who asks over and over again, and I do not want to do it anymore. I would rather have nothing.

in the clear-headed, sound light of day I can say: it isn’t enough, and it’s making me more unhappy than happy– and it’s time to end it. as much as that will break my heart. I am out on the cliff by myself– and I’m stepping back inside.

I have no patience for people who fail to step up.

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simply to feel intensely

yesterday I left my computer at work by accident, and I feel as a result quite peaceful and free at home, here with my journal. it’s all too easy to fill life up with noise and activity– and what suffers is the inner voice, the channel of knowing the self and what’s real. but life is like that– inconsistent and chaotic– some times are lived more actively out in the world, busier, flashing, louder. I’ve had my share of quiet– and it’s something I need to hearken back to when I’m feeling too scattered and diffuse.

N is the biggest event, cause of much of this motion. three weeks. he’s glorious and troubling and addictive, like dark candy– and he has this lightness as well, this sweetness that just gleams out of him so spontaneously and unselfconsciously and generously– I love how dynamic he is– I love it– and he scares me a bit– his manic potential– he is so altogether unharnessed by himself– it’s one of the things I adore about him– particularly after having known other men– males– who were altogether too controlled or comfortable. he is not comfortable.

I am the one in this equation who is all fluff and flannel and horizontal– and I could tear myself up about the fears that this contrast makes arise– lack of sustainability, that this is inherently a brilliant, short-term connection– I don’t feel like that. I feel with him a much deeper recognition– a potential– but there is a cautionary voice that reminds me of how things naturally flow and move where they need to move.

I’m afraid I’m tempermentally a premature mourner, trying, kind of pitifully, to bank myself against future or imagined losses. as if it helped at all. in fact there’s the possibility it damages being entirely available and present in the moment.

there is such a compulsion to hold on in me– it’s quite dire and daunting, and I guess I’m trying to reason with that somewhat. it hasn’t really done me a lot of favors in the past– tendency to hang onto the wrong things, rather. I let a lot pass right out of my ken– friends, places, family, responsibilities– but there’s this deathgrip on the painfully ruptured relationships.

worrying and worrying them– like a sore place on my tongue I press against the edges of my teeth time and time again. and why? until eventually the thrill of pain is gone, sapped by time. why persist with this? mere masochism? somehow that seems too… simplistic, and unmeaningful. I must do it for some reason. is it simply to feel something, anything, intensely? that sounds more right– weighing all the emotional contents of my pockets, sifting them for what is heaviest, sharpest, most startling– and then spending my energy on that. interesting.

actually, I can’t quite see anything I disagree with in this practice– it’s honest and real and poetic.

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brand new

wow. I’ve been reading back through the last couple of months of the journal, and it stuns me. so much processing I’ve been doing– and so much of it specifically geared toward love, toward wanting to be a whole, sound person on my own (or as close to it as I can manage), but also *partnered*. my wishing, hoping, asking for that has gotten very overt and articulate. and then along comes N. boom boom boom— girders and foundations and otherworld lives slamming firmly into place. part of me is quite superstitious, amazed and unbelieving– it is so remarkably dreamlike, I dread the waking. it is the best, most vivid, heart-echoing dream I never want to wake from. tho I know absolutely in this waking life (well, both places) there is no stasis, no foundation or girders– apart from those we choose to believe are there, to place our faith in and build self and lives around. I know full well that somedays it will doubtless feel entirely un-dreamlike– there will be confilicts and conundrums, pain and worry and difficulty– it may even feel insurmountable to one another… I never want to get there. but if we do, I want us to find our way back out of it. I want to be fully absolutely recognizeable, faith-full, worthy of faith with him– I want the knowing and trusting only to deepen and compound. so, okay, there will doubtless be tests of will, skirmishes, fireworks even– but, please, my love, remain my love– I believe with my whole heart that with this, what we have already, we will be able to weather any storm. am I precipitate or naive in such devotion? well, now– that’s an interesting challenge– how much you trust your heart and how much you attend to the voices around you– X or Y is not fair or “right”– fearing friends’ judgement, that creeping fear of being a patsy… so ultimately that one is about self-confidence. trusting myself enough to belive in the wisdom of my choices and ongoing intelligence of my perceptions– like, if I get into murky waters with my love, I have enough confidence in both myself and him to know we are both resourceful and intelligent and that we have the good of what is between us at heart– that neither of us will get too blinded or cowardly to meet the rough parts with love and compassion. god, I treasure him. he is a treasure of a human being– multifaceted and dynamic and beautiful and flashing-whirling. his motion frightens me a little bit– I am the stodgey one… I so want this to be a good thing and never the bad contrast it could turn into. I’m okay with being a lightning rod, a grounding line, an anchor– as long as I am not too much of a drag. this is the perpetual fear of being depressive. also I am not necessarily particularly constant, as one might expect from this part of the the equation– I am moody and at times overwrought myself. I can be quite gothically melodramatic. I crave some sort of grounding myself– can he be my lightning rod as well?

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