Yes, I saw you on the bus as I was leaving work. Cant believe its been six months since I saw your face. Hope you are well. Still wish I had been a better person.

Does it mean anything positive that after nearly five months, i still feel terrible for losing you and for the way i handled things/our relationship? im not crazy, i am human. i want to say so much, but i get stymied by the fact that i am talking to a glass wall.

if you want to know, than come back tomorrow, ill have somethign to say.

fine
do you remember when we met? i wanted to get to know you so badly that i forced myself to go to a bar i never thought id have to suffer. thats how much i wanted to be near you. sometimes, i would wander by, looking inside asylum to see if you were there, or i would intentionally tell jesse or someone else to meet me at the grill so that iw ould have an excuse to go past the bar. i remember thinking how beautiful youwere and wanting to look in your big brown eyes. ive re-read some of the myspace blog posts i wrote when we first started hanging out, and it reminded me of how excited i was to have met you and how much i wanted you in my life. i hadnt felt that way in a really long time.

i know that our relationship was rocky from early on. there were lots of factors that i never even bothered to stop and think about, or i was too wrapped up in my own shit to give much thought. but there were things about the way we got on that i like a lot. i liked that we spent a lot of time together, and maybe it was too much too soon, but i remember thinking how shitty i felt when i went home and slept in a bed without you. i remember the couple of times you left town how much i missed you and wanted you there with me. and it was nice having schedules that afforded us the ability to spend time together, sleep on the same schedules etc. but i am not naive and i know that those things arent what makes a relationship good, or what a good relationship is founded on.

i have had a lot of time and a good amount of therapy over the last several months. i have a much different and more realistic perspective on what happened between you and i. i also have a grevious amount of shame and sadness as well. while i think about you and about our relationship often, it is in a very different way. i wish that i could talk to you and tell you about the ways in which my mind and the way that i deal with things have changed, but every time i sit down to write something about it, i get bogged down by how horribly we communicated, and it seems like my brain shuts off. ive wanted to write you long letters here hoping that you would read them and come to some kind of understanding, but each time i do, i ask myself a couple of things. first, i wonder where the fuck i would even start. there are quite a few issues that would require covering, and loads of explanation and back story that would only serve to alienate and or bore you. the second thing i ask myself is " why would she even want to know or care?" this is where the crux of my biggest frustration lies. maybe you dont care and you j ust come here to read this because you are curious about what i have to say. maybe it is a spectacle to you or somethig for you to find humor in. if thats the case, i dont know what to say. im willing to make myself vulnerable and open myself up to being ridiculed or humiliated or mocked because at this point, i dont care and i have absolutely nothing to lose. or maybe you come here because part of you still cares. if thats the case, i will continue to reach out and hope that whatever scrap that still remains is enough for you to be able to forgive me. thats the most important thing to me. more than missing you, more than wishing i could see your face, i want you to forgive me. i miss your friendship more than just about anything, and it hurts to think that there are times when we are within the same square mile, and i cant speak to you.

my time at the library is up, but i intend to write more tomorrow or the next day. maybe you will have it in your heart to come back. maybe some day i will find the right words to express myself in a way that reaches you. i know that i should be over you by now, and in an intellectual way, i am. i can rationalize not being with you. i can understand the logic and reasons why. but my heart still feels lost and sad and jumbled up.

Okay.
This is getting foolish and silly. I still think about her, and I know she still thinks about me, only I cant say for certain in what way. I do know she reads this blog. I am 100 percent certain. Yet, despite my pathetic pleas for some kind of conversation, some kind of contact, she wont respond.

I have been thinking about her a lot still which I thought was going to go away, but for some odd reason, it wont.

Look, this is directed at you. Yes, you. YOu know who you are. You check this blog almost daily. Almost always at the same time even. You come here to see what I have to say about you or about my silly life or about something. You want to know. I want to tell you. My life has improved in so many ways, and if you would take the time to listen, I could tell you. But you are strong willed, stubborn and indignant. I wish I could sit down with you and tell you why things happened the way they did. If you would let me, I would be honest and open with you. I could let you in.

I spent the day waling along the beach today, unaware until i paid close attention that if i look across the bay, i can see things from the opposite perspective of the way i was looking at them before i moved to this part. i can see the park we walked along when we were first here. god, i would love to tell you how my life has changed in so many ways. i still wish that we could be sharing this adventure, and while i know that the reason why we cant rests squarely with me, if you would take the time to get to know the real me, the person i am and not the person i became in the last year, you would understand a lot.

im begging you. talk to me. under safe and legal circumstances. my only hope and desire is to talk to you. im not bitter, angry or frustrated. i miss you. still.

if you wont talk to me or communicate with me, will you please stop coming here? its a free country and you can do what you please, but it kills me to know that i am still on your mind in some way, but you wont tell me how or why.

please. i

im curious. what do you want to know that makes you read this? and why is it that you will read this but not speak to me? does it entertain you to read what i write? to see that after five months i still miss you? or do you just think me so totally insane that its a spectacle for you to watch?

it makes me sad still that you refuse to have any sort of contact with me. i know you read this often. you still care about what i think in some way. if you didnt care you wouldnt come here. so, please, look in to your heart and consider a word with me. we can meet somewhere public and have coffee or a beer. i just want to to know how you are and see your face.

i miss you. consider some way to find it in your heart to talk to me. even just for a moment. i want to know how you are and catch up. no bullshit, no drama.

please. maybe you hate me, and if thats the case, im sorry. but if you would give me a moment or two, thats all i would ask. you can give me sign like changing your myspace photo to one i took of you. if not, i will understand

Requiem for an April Fool

I should have known better than to fall for someone as young as her. Maybe it was the poppy tea. Maybe it was the way she reminded me a little of Rachel, and a lot of Kristine, only without the nasty disposition and the propensity to start trouble or sometimes finish it. Maybe she is a well timed diversion from my thoughts about the one I came here with. Regardless, though, I will not remember her name in five years or the way her pillow smelled or how her skin felt in the way that I do Abbey's or, occasionally, others. It was silly and too soon to say the way I felt, and I knew that before I ever set foot off the bus to meet her. I set out to intentionally sabotage things knowing full well that a girl her age would likely turn tail. But she is smarter than me at her age, and maybe a little more world weary than I give her credit for. She was like a salesperson, well trained in the wiley ways of getting someone to admit to wanting something so bad, they would take out loans costly than they could afford. Willing to forego other pleasures or even daily needs for an occasional spin around the block in a fancy car.

I still think about Abbey. A lot. Daily. Im sure she has found someone new as well. She is shy, but in an appealing way, and the kind of pretty that makes you stare when you dont suspect that you are. I dont like the thought of her with someone else, but I hope she is happy no matter what she is doing. I was thinking yesterday about how long its been since we broke up, and the time apart is almost equal to the time we were together in the city. In some ways, it makes me deeply sad, but in other ways, it helps me to feel as though this city is mine now, too. I can stay or leave completely independent of thoughts of her. I miss her, though. Its funny that I can talk to Jill about her, and Jill can talk to me about whatever his name is and there is never a moment of jealousy or misunderstanding. I find it at times odd, but also very real and honest to have that kind of open communication. Of course it also means that our "feelings" for one another are or never will be more than what they are now.

Not a Day

Not a day goes by that I dont think of her. I could ruminate and ponder for days, I could write volumes about my feelings for her, but it can all be boiled down or reduced to the simple fact that I still miss her.

I dont have much else to say, I suppose. Someday, I will look back on these posts and wonder why I didnt say more. Or; Ill read them and know exactly what I was thinking.


For you, monkey I would suffer for ages. If you only knew the things Ive been through and the ways Ive changed.

13

two friday the thirteenths in two months. what are the chances? so far, this one hasnt been nearly as bad as last months, but there is still plenty of time, its only 2 in the afternoon.

its hard to believe its been nearly three months since we broke up. so many things have happened for better and worse in that span of time, but it only seems like a few days ago that we hugged goodbye for the last time. i still think about her often, wonder what she is doing etc. i have moments where i want just to call her or email her and say hello just to find out how she is doing. i know that she doesnt think it, but i do care for her deeply, even still, after all this shit. i think of us on the first few days we were here, the excitement and the sense of wonder and adventure, and i wish that i could have held on to that somehow.

my writing lately has been rushed and a little forced, and not altogether me. it feels like every time i sit down to a computer, the phone rings, the library closes etc. i get distracted easily.

anyhow, more than a month has passed since the whole order of protection thing, and i hope that by now she can see that i never intended to hurt or scare or intimdate her. i was just reeling and frightened and wanting to try anything to salvage our relationship. does she really hate me that much? when i think about the facts, it seems like the answer is yes, but i suppose i dont really want to accept that. i have this recurring daydream that she eventually quashes the order of protection, and we sit down for a nice, calm, long conversation to clear the air. i know that will never happen, but it crosses my mind sometimes.

im boring myself with all of this repetitive shit about her and us. its been almost three months for chrissakes.
anyhow......

Still missing the monkey

Til the wheels come off

The More I Think About Yesterday

....the more it bugs me. It feels so weird that we moved to this city together and then the first time I run into her in over a month, I have to run away. I wish I could talk to her, ask her how she is, be cordial and kind. I miss her.

Fuck, this feels so wrong and stupid. It feels so not right when I picture the look on her face, that look of anger mixed with impatience and dread. How could I have let it come to this? Why is there no such thing as a time machine?

Fuck fuck fuck


SAY SOMETHING!

Watch where yer goin ya dummy!

I cant believe the things that have happened to me the last week when I havent been paying attention to what I was doing. First, there was the walking in to the beam at work and knocking myself out. Then this today?

I wish the circumstances of me seeing her for the first time in forever had been different. I hadnt seen that angry look on her face in some time. But there she was, tapping her foot and looking mad. I guess she hates me if the look on her face is any indication of how she feels. Anyhow.....oops. I felt stupid, fleeing like a startled bird, but I guess that there was no other appropriate response.

Im excited about staying in Ballard, but clearly will have to rethink how or when I get to work. I suppose taking the bus a half hour earlier is an easy enough solution to the problem.

Man, I wish I hadnt seen her, just made me miss her. Makes me feel like a foolish dolt to miss someone who has nothing but spite and hate in her heart for me. I wish it was easier to forget her.

i will spit until i learn to speak again

things dissolve and drain away. sometimes. sometimes they come surging back like a river reversed.

i held on to that lighter for as long as i could. silly of me. i wanted one little thing to remind me of her. i can still see her fingers, slightly sloppily painted nails, wrapped around it while she lit the last cigarette we ever smoked together. it reminded me of the polish or czech lighter ( i cant remeber which) that just kept lighting, and how we laughed about it every time. if only our relationship had had that kind of staying power.

every old thing and every new thing i try to fill the void with just leads me back to thoughts of her. i dont really want to be with someone new, the times i am with new people feels awkward and stilted and false.

maybe only til its the right time?

all gone now

[somewhere i have never travelled]
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose
or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands

i wish i had never torn up that post card, or even gone to her house that night for any matter. no. let me take this a step or two further. i wish i had never left that day on a plane for tucson. i wish i had asked her to give it a day or two, but i pushed the envelope over the edge. i wish i had come home that night with flowers or dinner in my bag and surprised her. i wish i wish i wish. its silly now to think about.

i thought that after i my life got back on track and things started looking up i would stop missing her so much, but it really hasnt been the case. there are days when it feels less severe, but its still there.

i am reminded of an old al perry song. " the one who wants me i wish would go away, the one i want wont give me the time of day" i miss tucson in some ways, but am enjoying this adventure too. i wish the adventure i had planned on having with her had unfolded instead though. i am tired of meeting women who talk too much and whom i have very little in common with. i tried, i really did, but my heart just isnt in it right now and i guess its not fair to pretend to be excited about someone when my mind is elsewhere.

im rambling. its raining. i still miss someone. she would probably think i was retarded for feeling that way about her after all of this. she made her feelings about me clear by way of a legal document. and yet i cant hate her or have harsh feelings, just sadness and missing.

Chump

Nothing can make you feel more like a chump than putting yourself on the line, exposing your weaknesses, innermost thoughts and emotions and then being denied. I dont know why I was so naive in thinking a little time would make things better, but I did. I hoped that she would see me not as an enemy, but as someone who was struggling and lost. How silly of me.

I am not an idiot, but I am a fool. Im a fool for selling everything I owned, for moving to a city with a woman I was in a tenuous realtionship with, and foolish for letting things get out of hand the way they did when I was unhappy. I am foolish for pursuing a far too broken love with a woman who likely never loved me to begin with. I am foolish for pushing her away with my actions than desperately trying to get her back when it finally came to a head. Im foolish to believe that I meant anything to her, even with my foibles and shortcomings and bad behavior. Im foolish to expose myself in this forum thinking that being emotionally honest and truly repentant would somehow make a difference.

At this point, Im sure she thinks Im a lunatic. I guess it doesnt matter what she thinks anymore. Im still deeply sorry for losing myself and for losing control and for pushing her to the brink. But how can I carry on having feelings like I do when they will probably be used against me or be seen as somehow a sign that I am not right.

You can read this every day, morning evening and night. Ill never say a cross word about her. I just wish that there had been better communication between us and a little bit of forgiveness and understanding. Life goes on. Someplace else.

when i was seven, the thing i wanted most in the entire world was this snoopy pencil box that was for sale at the yellow front store around the corner from our house. im not sure why i wanted a pencil case, i wasnt the most organized or particularly tidy second grader, but i loved the peanuts and snoopy especially. so for my birthday my mom bought me the pencil case. i remember taking the pencils and erasers out and setting them neatly on the table. the pencils were wood painted with the kind of scenes on them that when you turn the pencil clock or counter-clockwise, a series of events takes place. first, snoopy climbs aboard his dog house airplane. next he is seen donning his cap and goggles. now he is dodging woodstock. finally, his dog house air plane comes to rest on the ground again, and he is lying upside down looking up at the sky. for the entire weekend before school began i took the pencils out every day just to look at them, i smelled them, put the erasers in my teeth to feel the satisfying softness of them. i swore that i was going to take care of the pencils and other things inside, planned to use them sparingly, to appreciate them and try to never sharpen the pencils past the point of where the pictures ended.school started a couple weeks after my birthday, and i brought the case with me. i opted to use the pencils only for special occasions, and tried very hard to use other writing options. i left the case in my desk so as to not lose it or get it stolen on the bus rides to and from school. my diligence lasted for about four or five weeks. but not long after i started to forget about how fucking special the case and its contents were. i became complacent about it like children do about most things. i had a habit of chewing on my pencils, leaving teeth marks in them and biting the erasers off the end. i loaned one or two to the girl next to me whose arm smelled like cookies ( i have a very distinct memory of this becasue we played a game once in which you had to touch a body part of yours to the body part of your partner. it was not sexual or creepy like you might think. anyway, i remember the teacher saying nose to arm. and the girls arm smelled so sweet and i felt embarassed about leaving my nose there longer than i should have)soon, the pencils were gone, and the erasers chewed or rubbed down to nothing little stumps. i took the case home and hid it under my bunk bed, i felt so ashamed of myself. this is my very first memory of feeling grief and disappointment to the point that you want to smash something. i feel that way right now. i know that once you sharpen the pencil past the point of use, or you unconsciously begin to gnaw away at it, its going to be gone and you cant bring it back. there is nothing i can do now, but go back to the boring, ugly yellow number two pencils.

i never wanted to be with kristine. she was a yellow number two to me. A was a Snoopy pencil case filled with all of my favorites. I went back to using yellow number twos because I have always felt like I never deserved the good stuff and so when I had it in my life, I subconsciously wrecked it. I know this makes sense to me, and maybe not to many other people. tara understands. she knows that because of the way we were brought up that whenever we have had good things in our lives we have sabotaged them because we're afraid of having successes and love and things because we never learned to have those things. Im tired. Im not making sense. Just know.

I am superstitious about two things; walking under ladders and Friday the 13th. Tomorrow could turn out to be a very bad day for me and it makes me really rather nervous. I wish in no small part that I had stayed in Tucson for a week or two or more or until the twinges of missing her started to dissipate. I wish that I had found a more constructive and healthy way to mend the wrongs with her, but instead I tried to force my will.

I wish she believed me when I told her how sorry I was for all the wrong turns, and wish I had listened closer to her when she tried to tell me several things as well. I dont think Ill ever know how truly feels about me now, I just hope that some day she knows that in my heart of hearts, I truly never meant to hurt her, that I feel foolish for being careless with her feelings and her trust and her love, that I really do love her no matter what, and that the monster that I was at times is not the man that I know myself to be deep down.

I have to go to bed and get up early.

I miss her. No matter what. She can hate me to the day I die, and I will never feel anything but love for her and sadness at losing her. I dont care if she stomps to bits. I will still feel the same way.

Its funny. Sometimes at work I catch myself trying to hurry up and get finished with whatever stupid end of the night task it is so that I can get done in time to get home and see her. I know she doesnt think I tried, but I did. There were so many times I wanted to see her before she went to bed, or hoped shed stay up and talk to me. I was too prideful to show how much I cared. When she was away those two times, I actually sat and counted the hours until shed come back. I always wanted to play it cool because to be anything less than casual , i thought, would make me seem clingy and needy.

I had a thought today that made me rather sad. Her friend Y used to say something whenever we would leave the bar or a party, and I always liked it. She would say " take care of my girl". It made me smile inside whenever I heard that. I just wish I had done a better job of it.

Not sure where I am going to sleep tonight, but at least its not raining. Every day I work is money in the bank and money in the bank means freedom. either leaving here or finding a place and planting roots.part of me wants to go so badly when every little thing, even the internet cafe, reminds me of her or us coming here together. everything is tied to her in some way and if i can get past that, i may stay.

i want to write more, i have a lot on my mind, but I was up way too late last night/this morning. there's always tomorrow.

Last night was a blast. It was good to spend time with friends and catch up and meet new people. It made me want to be back in Tucson for some reason, instead of the constantly uphill Seattle. I slept well last night in a proper bed with sheets and a blanket that smelled nice and got enough sleep that I actually had a dream. In it, I was walking down a street. Someone kept calling my name but I couldnt see who it was. I turned a corner and lit a cigarette and she appeared. She was wearing the dress she wore the night we met but she had no shoes on. I turned to walk away, but she grabbed my wrist and turned me around. She said only three words. I forgive you. I held both of her hands and just looked at her for a long time just standing there with her hands in mine. I put my hand on her cheek and she put hers behind my head and pulled me close to her and held me close. We stood there for a long time just holding each other then we turned and walked hand in hand. that was it.

If she was reading this, I wonder what these kinds of things would elicit in her. Would she think me even nuttier than before for having such strong feelings for her after all of this? Would she believe me? Surely one must know that if after all these things one would still hold strong in their feelings that they are certainly real. I used to get irritated at feeling her breath on my arm when we were lying in bed, but now I would sleep in snow for months to have the possibility just to hear her breathe, or to feel my legs entangled in hers.

I dont give a shit if she thinks Im crazy for feeling this way. What do I have to lose? I know now what Maggie meant when she chastised me for being upset at her feelings for me.

Like a cowboy

Now that I am certain that no one is looking at this, I can write with complete and total candor and honesty. I thought she might at least drop in from time to time, but I guess I dont blame her.

I feel like shit today. Im pretty sure I have frost bite on my toes and finger tips. I didnt think it would snow last night, and sleeping on the ground is something you have to think about in advance. Tonight i will find some cardboard and sleep on it. I wish the next two weeks would either hurry up and happen or never. As soon as I get enough money saved up, things will start to look a little brighter. Im worried that when I see the boots tomorrow they will be able to tell that I am homeless and they will tell everyone back in Tucson and rumours will abound. If it werent for showers at the theater, Id be screwed. Its tough to get a new job when you smell like underpass and dirty clothes. Also, thank god for public libraries and internet cafes. Warmth. Connection to the real world.

My spirits are actually pretty good all things considered. I know that I put myself in this shit mess, but I also know that when I get on the other side of it, Ill be a stronger, better person prepared never to let anything like this happen again. I just kind of wish that I had this kind of resolve before we broke up. I miss her more than I thought I would. It will wane someday I'm sure. I just never thought that I'd lose the woman of my dreams in such a horrendous way, but, again, I blame only myself. I let my ego and self centered thoughts get in the way, and I let my anxieties control my decision making. Can you believe that I thought that being distant and removed and a little hard would make her want me more? I never learned the meaning of balance until this.
Im posting a new video to remind me of her from time to time. When i hear this song, it reminds me of the time I walked down to Asylum to see her, and she danced to this song. I try not to dwell to long on those moments, only let them roost long enough to be a good memory, never long enough to make me sad.

I hope she is well and safe and happy.

As for me? Ill sleep under the stars again like a cowboy.

Lessons from L'Orfeo

I remember not long ago a Native American man saying to me after watching me at the bus stop, "You're a coyote." It meant nothing to me at the time, only that I have always held the words of Native Americans in a kind of odd, superstitious regard. Call me a racist if you must, but I often wonder if some people have the eye to others souls. So, I was a little creeped out. What the fuck does that mean?

I was thinking about the myth of Orpheus today. While the myth involves a man who goes to hell and back for the woman he lost, his object of affection ( Eurydice) does not want to be separated from him. That is where things differ from my story. But I could not help but feel a connection to a story where a man who was once a wretched person comes to find the woman he longs to be with more than anyone, loses her, than fights a desperate but eventually unwinnable battle to be with her again. At the end, he finds that the best and really only option is to let go and begin a new life without her.

I want to write more about this later when I m not so tired. No one reads this crap anyway. Ive spent most of the last three days wandering the streets looking for shelter and trying to stay warm and dry. Im exhausted but the most clear headed Ive been in years.

A Sip or a Spoonful Wont Do

I wish I could be sitting on the edge of my old bed right now, feeling the cold and the lumpiness of the poorly laid tiles. To the south, looking out the window I could see the moon reflecting off the back of the neighbors wall and shining off the corrugated tin fences. I wish I could hear the creak of the bedroom door as one of the cats crept his way in. I wish I could hear the settling of the metal of the bed frame, and the slight turn of the wheels as they slid across the floor when the bed moved. I wish I could smell the cinnamon and apple of a candle mixed with the slightly musty smell of my ancient pillows and rarely washed, mascara stained pillow cases. I wish I could hear the sound of the cooler squeaking and straining to work, or the whir of a fan oscillating air around the room. I wish I could smell her perfume mixed with the air of booze and cigarettes as she slept and it would remind me to make this list of all the things I need to remember before leaving.

1. Know what this means. Don't take it or anything else that surrounds it for granted.

2. Know what she means and don't take her or anything about her for granted. There will come a time when you will be thankful you didn't

3. Forgive yourself for the things you did and didn't do and let them be a lessons you wont forget, let those lessons be your moral compass and let that compass point you in the direction you wantneed to go.

4. Work hard and seize this opportunity for the new start that it is. Live your life like an immigrant to a new country, show patience, and gratitude and humility.

5. Listen

6. Leave your old life behind like a snakes molted skin. What's left is brittle and see through anyway. Be new.

7. Never eat the last frozen pizza.

What more can I say? Is there anything in the world I can say or do, not to get her back, but to erase the worst parts?

When Your Expression of Love Becomes Evidence, It becomes Evident of Your need for Supression

( The contents of these blog posts are personal journal entries and are not intended as open communication between me and anyone else. Readers of this blog are here purely by happenstance or as a result of extensive web searches. By choosing to read this blog, you are tacitly agreeing that it is for entertainment purpose only, and that you will not hold it's author legally responsible for it's content in any way)

Exhibit A: Please refer to the above video.

In my mind, it plays out like a John Hughes or Cameron Crowe  film; forlorn romantic has epiphany about life and love and choices, drives around in car or walks for extended period in rain. Forlorn then makes last ditch effort to win over the heart of his object of affection by act of shameless expression through words, music or otherwise entertaining but no less meaningful bafoonery. Object of affection has trepidation but ultimately sees good in forlorn and has change of heart. Reconciliation. Cue happy ever after.

I know that it is silly. We do not live out our lives on celluloid, and often the way the world works is far more complicated and a lot less pretty. But it makes you sometimes wonder; does art imitate life or vice versa. It's such an age old question that was probably never intended to have an answer in the first place. At what point do the cues and lessons we've culled from media, experience, and mythology overlap, and when should we keep them separate? Even as a grown man, I have bought the unfounded and false notion that love conquers all, that in time, anything is possible, and that sometimes all you have to do is wear heart proudly and vulnerably on sleeve. 

It's sad and disheartening when an expression of your affection for a lost love is collected as evidence in a case against you, when what you thought was a creative way of showing genuine and real emotion is seen as an act of aggression or harassment. I've never felt so small and shameful and embarrassed. I could understand if I had made such a declaration for someone who was a stranger to me, not someone I had shared a bed with for a year and half. It was naive and maybe a little sophomoric of me, but....well, it doesnt much matter now, does it. Intentions  dont matter much. Its really all sensitive dependence on initial conditions; the butterfly effect.

I wanted to let her in to see. In private, I shared with her my fears and anxieties and made myself overly vulnerable. Some of my anxieties and fears I kept from her because to lay them bare made me feel less of a man, not because I wanted to keep her in the dark or pull the wool over her eyes.

But that is not what is bothering me right now. What is, is the butterfly effect of every wrong move that I have made in the last few months. Each and every split second or even premediatated decision I have made has produced unending havoc that seems to curve around and around with no site of its beginning or end. Each move or wrong move has led to another and another. How do you begin to unravel such a thing? Especially when your attempts to unwind it make the knot even worse? Its like unwinding strings of Christmas lights that have been buried in a box in the basement. So for every length I think I staighten out, I look down and see that I have done nothing but created a bigger mess at the other end of the string. I know that at times I have done things to make the tangle worse, but each time I try to fix it, it gets worse.

When we first broke up, I wanted to take my lumps and get over it. But I wanted to know her still and be close to her. I got frustrated at our communication because it felt stilted and awkward ( which now seems only natural).But my expression of that frustration was taken as anger ( i guess i can see why) which was met with frustration on her part which was met with frustration on my part which was met with anger on her part which was met with anger on my part which was met with excessive drinking on my part which led to really really poor, impulsive decision making on my part which was met with EXTREME frustration and TOTAL ANGER on her part which led to me starting it all over again and trying to explain how it all leads back to the fact that I love her more than anything and want to make it all better which was met with all of the above and more. So the snowball gets buried in an avalanche. How do you find a snowball in an avalanche?

From the beginning of our troubles, I never set out to hurt her. I was afraid of losing her so I hid my weaknesses from her ( or some of them). I became paralyzed by my own self doubt and fear. When the onus was on me to make things better, I couldn't . I shut down when what I need to do was fire all rockets. But that explanation doesnt sit well with her even though I know it to be true. Its another case of the snowball effect. I didnt want her to se me as anything less than perfect for her. So, I intended to deal with some of these issues on my own, not out of a desire to be secretive or hurtful, but because I didnt want to burden our relationship any more than it was. It is her own way, in some ways. She deals with her issues silently and keeps them to herself. But that created problems when I did a poor job of mending things. So the snowball... and then the boombox starts to look like a bomb and the guy holding it over his head is no longer a lover you recognize, but a creepy guy in a long dark coat. 

Humility

I decided to write here instead because I keep getting emails from friends and family about my preferred list.

I know that you might think Im a lunatic, and you arent entirely wrong. But you are here for one reason or another, and whatever that reason is is okay with me. Maybe you are just curious, or maybe you are worried about what I have to say. Whatever the reason, I dont care. Maybe you'll never read this either, which is okay, too. I am going to say what I have to say in this forum and you are free to read it or not. I should have done this all along instead of trying to get you to listen to me. If I had allowed you to come to this kind of thing on your own time, we would probably be in a much different, more civil place right now.

Through all of this shit that has gone down over the last couple weeks, I have been wondering why in the hell you went from being willing and able to at least communicate with me to not even wanting to have any contact. Then, today, I went through all the emails and gchats between us. Let me say that I am disgusted with myself and am not wondering any more.

I wont reprint the gchat from the third of January here, but let me recap briefly. I was immediately defensive with you and angry despite you telling me that you were sorry that it had come to this and that you hoped that we could be civil to one another some day. I responded with telling you to fuck off. What the hell I was thinking, I dont know. Honestly, I think the new medication I was on ( which I have since quit) messed with my brain chemistry in a negative way. I dont know why I got so defensive and angry when all you were trying to do was walk away in a dignified and civil manner. Im sorry for that, truly. I should have done the same, but because I felt, undeservedly so, that I had been fucked over, I got pissed and acted like a child. I really am sorry. I wish I had been more gracious and understanding. You deserved to have someone in my situation with you to accept his fate with dignity and aplomb.

So, even when all I wanted to do was apologize, and you were not willing to hear it, I was making things worse. It makes sense to me now how you would not want to hear what I had to say because I have more than a few times vascillated between being kind ( ish) and accepting, and being defensive, brash and rude. Im very sorry.

I guess that's it for now.