The Egoist

A whirlwind.  A mistake.  A lie.  A truth.  A capitulation.  A confusion.

It is so odd to feel whatever it is I feel.  It’s not one thing, it’s not sectionable into discrete pieces of emotion.  At once, it’s this charged, ionized, lionized solvent.  He quotes Milton at me.  Milton! He doesn’t want the grand charade.  I feel like oh, yeah, he wants to be nice to me, not some mask covering ten other masks, and how…do I do that?

I want to be vague, but how else do you say that we’re two people trying to be affectionate via the internet and dealing with different time zones and work schedules and expectations and I’m feeling really body conscious and trying to accept this moment for what it is and yet, also, stay completely covered up and invisible and hold on to all of my baggage and issues at the same time?

He video called me today when he was almost half asleep – and I kind of freaked out.  Not at him, but just didn’t answer.  Once he had to go, which wasn’t much after that, I turned on my camera and stared at myself.  No, I kept saying, I couldn’t have, no, not…like this.   Complete self-rejection.  Roots are too dark, look washed out, massive dark circles, horrible posture.  No.  Just…it’s so imperfect and bad.

It didn’t help that today was the day to discover an app that changes photos of you so that you look like a precious, ageless, anime creature.

But this is the face I have, I keep recalling, the body.  The life.  The place I live is where I live.  The naivete and kindness and meanness and vanity is all mine.  I can’t just put it in a box and say, okay, instead, I am really comfortable.  I know I’m being pushed, not by him, but by the opportunities he presents. I’m pushing myself and I am aware that I’ve floated far away from the reach of the wall.  Without knowing how to swim, I just have to keep floating here.

I really have nobody at the moment to guide me through this.


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