the epistemological crisis

It is important to do the work when you feel the pressure build right behind your eyes.  It is important to remember the work exists.  It exists both as a task and as a gift on days like this.

The thing that it is when you know you’re being a jerk, a bitch, a something more specifically worse than all of that and you are dutifully extracting yourself from impacting anyone with your aura but you, yes, me, yes, I am still irritated as all hell.

The other.  And me.  There’s a story here, a feedback loop that I am stuck in.  Facts I know.  Pains I live and relive.

I don’t want to support this negligible person.  I don’t feel the need he has to take her and make a point with her.  He has such a need to spend time making points all the while…this thing between us is stuck in the box, existing as both living and dead.   I don’t know what he needs – a particular date to pass, a particular vertebrae in his spine to calm and relax, me to say some particular thing or look some particular way – and it is so hard to even have gotten to this point.

I say find me in the morning.

He says I always do.  Tell me how many times we haven’t talked.

I say there haven’t been many.

He says See.  I will find you.

I say Okay, go to sleep.

And this feels romantic and endearing and a connective tissue growing a bit further to cross this massive distance between us.  And then, he posts something about how poorly the attractive girl was treated and the underlines the point a couple times and the story shows up on my screen an hour later and I feel deflated.  What is this?  Why are we here in this place?  Why are you caring about so deeply about this?

Yes, we’re a thing.  No, he’s not talking to anyone else.  The group is infuriating at times.  But we aren’t doing some of the old things and I know that he cares deeply about everything.  I adore that about him, so I know that it’s my issues.  My expectations.  My old story about the beautiful girls having their way, destabilizing everything you think you’ve built, and just because that was one piece of the drama, and I should know better, doesn’t mean I was able to rise above it.  I was right back in high school feeling as though I needed to go do a screeching rendition of Jolene.

I just can’t end up the comfortable old shoe.

And then I worry and fret and strain myself over what is or is not, what should or should not be, and I get this long letter and this time spent on me and I…just don’t know what I need to know or say or do.

Tonight: calm about car send-ff
Look up other cars
What to wear tomorrow
What to eat
Check emails



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