Spontaneous Combustion

A post! A post, can you believe it?  I am able to do this because I’ve spent the day cleaning up and made a big effort in my room so that while not “perfect” or optimum, it is entirely unfucked and that’s a big deal.  That will allow me to feel much more relaxed in here.

So.  What’s the haps, my friends?

As for me, I am just in constant assessment mode.

Is this happening?  Is it dying?  Is it something I will crush if I so much as blow on it.

I read more old posts, posts from a few months ago when everything had such a clarity.  Not in what form it would take, but in, at the very least, the legitimacy of my feelings for J.  I still have the feelings, doubly so, but they come so knotted to frustrations and jealousies that I don’t know how to resolve – not beyond just nailing demands to the palace door.  A practice that will have one moment of satisfaction and then will end with me graciously booted back down to the gutters I’ve done so much to climb out of.  Sure you have the stars gleaming at you down there, but you also have everything else unwanted and shuttling towards the sea.

I want wanting, I want this stupid mess to continue rather than endure another ice age of isolation again.  I want to play second fiddle.  Okay, no, I don’t want that.  That makes my skin crawl and my eyeballs burst into flames and I want to fight all comers and stamp and holler and attach nametags and informational placards to everything so they know the primacy of my feelings.  I want to be a person of record.  I want to be the only person who matters, but that’s a big thing to ask from someone so far away and that’s not likely to happen so, instead, universe, I just want to feel connected.

And I don’t feel disconnected.  I start to think that way and something perfect from him will appear in my inbox, some little token that says I remember the jokes which are our jokes and I remember what pleases you.  Which, given what is being endured, actual suffering and actual need for comfort and for clarity and kindness, that I am in this equation at all is a big deal.  Maybe not to him, but I see it that way.  I wish so much I could intervene or change facts or even just…be there.  Just be around to distract and invite him to recall all the goodness that his life brings to the rest of us, to the fabric of the world.  Just to not have to suffer in silence or think that it is of no matter to anyone else.  He matters to me.

Okay.  The room is clean, I’ve seen my aunt, I’ve got a week without the big boss, I’ve got the new car, I’ve got three days of training rather than work.  I have a plan for the morning. I’m going to get some extra sleep.

Extra sleep.


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