A Nullified Existence

I think I really messed up this time.

I met a boy in this realm that was scared, that wanted to live more than he was living and wanted to share more than he was sharing. But he was trying the best he could. I kind of fell in love with this boy, in this realm. In this realm. In my mind.

I desperately wanted to help.

We began a dialogue in Instant Messenger. I was careful. I chose kindness in the most loving and supportive ways in hopes for him to build trust in me. I’m not sure how much geniune kindness this young man has seen in his life. Not much by all accounts.

I’d received a really great and lovely email from my friend PJ, a fellow I don’t see as often as I probably should. He wanted to express to all his friends how he felt about each and every one of them. It was his non-consumerist gift for all who made a difference in his life this year. How he expressed his feelings towards me made me blink tears from my eyes. PJ is a wonderful constant.

Truthfully, I get flummoxed by people that are able to emote at a constant level. My emotion peaks and plummets. I’m like a quick twitch sprinter, versus a long distance runner. It’s a rollercoaster I’ve grown quite accustomed to, but it is something that most don’t understand. Maybe it’s nothing to really rely on, as I discovered today.

With every new person I meet, I get caught up in a sensation of a sort of novelty. It creates such a heightened seratonin level in me that becomes quite addictive. Once the person is ingrained enough in my life, I relax enough to allow all the bits of my personality to unfurl. I accidentally drop the careful. I let loose the hold of compassion. Loving kindness gets wrestled into the backseat. All at once there is nothing but shards of broken feelings.

Quite often I say harsh, abrupt and discounting things to people thinking they can handle it. It's the way I learned. And I'm not unlike a schoolyard kid who when she likes someone, really likes someone, she says stupid things. In a moment I am loving. In the next I am impatient and sometimes callous. This is the single most valid reason I will never have a child. I was too astute a student at home. I lack a sufficient amount of care sometimes. And sometimes it bites me in the ass. Like it did today.

This person whom I love, whom I wasn’t careful enough with, without an explanation nor opportunty to rectify the situation, removed me from his contact list in Messenger.

I don’t have his phone number. I don’t have his address. I feel as though I’ve lost him and though it is 9˙C or 48˙F in most of my apartment, I welcome the cold as I’m welcoming any other feeling than the feeling of utter loss. What have I done?

If you read this, if I haven’t been cast out from every corner of your existence, please understand that I tried writing more to you, but I couldn’t. I felt it too exposing. I felt too naked. I am ill prepared to feel these feelings.

I was reading an article on the new album Key, by Son, Ambulance. The writer had mentioned the singer’s awkwardness in finding his voice. There were imperfections. He mostly carries a tune, but his voice does warble and does squeak and does go flat and out of Key. Like Flaming Lips’ Wayne Coyne, I think it’s the biggest reason I like both singers. Their strive is not for perfection in pitch, or otherwise. They embrace the process. They forgive themselves for not being perfect. I think that's the greatest thing about them.

I am trying very hard to be the best person I can possibly be. It’s become very important to me. I am, though, forgetful by nature. I am painfully human, who does make mistakes, though consider things, new things, everyday.

Please give me an opportunity to tell you how important you’ve become to me.

You have made me think about life and situations outside of my own.
You have made me desperate with worry, like I am now.
You have kicked my proverbial ass when I threatened to quit writing.
You promised never to let me quit.
You have made me painfully aware of human frailty in others and within myself.
You often inspire what I write.
I did research Antonin Artaud, but I was trying to think of something clever. Nothing came. I felt stupid.
You had become the single greatest image in sexual fantasy fodder ever since meeting you.
And still are.

I wish I had listened to you more.

That I called you a name that I shouldn’t have was wrong, and I’m again, I’m sorry. I sometimes forget how important language is. I forget sometimes how powerful words are. I forget sometimes where the stem of those feelings potentially took root. My credo had always been that actions speak louder than words. I’m discovering that isn’t necessarily true. Thank you for helping me understand that.

Please don’t hate me. Please try to understand that we all live in this world where we’re all just trying to figure it out. I haven’t yet, but I’m trying.

I love you to the best of my ability right now. You’ve accepted this love to the best of your ability as well. It’s all process.

I know you’re punishing me. Please don’t do this. Please don’t shut me out.

The Comrade will always be your comrade.