“Yesterday”

[Intro: Toni Braxton & Trey Songz]
Oh, oh
No, no
Ooh, Toni

[Verse 1: Toni Braxton]
I gave you the benefit of the doubt
‘Til you showed me what you were about
Your true colors came out, oh
And your words couldn’t hide the sin
‘Cause the truth about where you been
Is in a fragrance I can’t recognize

[Pre-Chorus: Toni Braxton]
Just standing there, scratching your head
Bloodshot eyes, drunk with regret
Hanging yourself ten feet over the edge
I’m done with this, feeling like an idiot
Loving you, I’m over it
I just don’t love you, don’t love you no more

[Chorus: Toni Braxton]
You, you are so yesterday
Never thought you’d lose my love this way
Now you come begging me to stay
See you, you are so yesterday
I won’t let you rain on my parade
I don’t wanna hear a thing you say
You’re so yesterday

[Verse 2: Trey Songz]
Baby, what you’re saying to me is
There’s no more you and I
I couldn’t get it right on yesterday
So kiss our tomorrows goodbye
Baby, love should brought me home
Should’ve just been a man about it
But now I’m crying like a baby
Girl, your love was like my blanket
Don’t know what to do without it

[Pre-Chorus: Trey Songz & Toni Braxton]
I’m standing here, pleading my case
You don’t care to hear what I say
Hanging yourself ten feet over the edge, oh no, baby
My promises don’t mean nothing
The end is so disgusting
I just don’t love you, don’t love you no more

[Chorus: Toni Braxton & Trey Songz]
You, you are so yesterday
Never thought you’d lose my love this way
Now you come begging me to stay
Honey, you, you are so yesterday
I won’t let you rain on my parade
I don’t wanna hear a thing you say, so yesterday

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Unexpected

I can’t think of many redeeming qualities he possesses. Half of the time, okay maybe majority of the time, I’m struggling to even find what it is I even find attractive about him. He really isn’t my type physically. Besides his curly black hair, his smooth brown skin, his perfectly shaped lips. Ok…ok maybe I do know why I am attracted to him. But it’s not his looks that have me so dazed by him. Quite frankly I don’t know what it is about him that does. I get irritated by his impulsiveness. His arrogance. His inability to be selfless at times. He is not someone  that I would have thought I would love. His reputation is far from flawless. If I had been looking for perfection. He was far from it. But I fell. And I fell hard. So unexpectedly.

Is it love? For a long time I prayed that it wasn’t. All I was looking for was a distraction for a lot of things that were falling apart in my life. A good time, if that’s what you want to call it. He brought excitement into my life. Secret meetings, in secret spots. Both just looking to escape reality.  But I know that I myself, possess a certain curse. Men seem to fall for me even when they don’t think they would, and I usually hold the power in these situations. This time no one held this particular power. Even though I could see he was falling. I slipped too.

The moment I slipped I knew the power was now his. Sadly, he knew it too.

I remember the moment. I knew I lost the power.  Sex wasn’t just sex anymore. It became some type of window to my soul. The night I knew I loved him. Everything felt different. Smelled different. We moved different. I felt as though I could hear his heart beating through his chest. My heart beat seemed to sync with his. Everything slowed down. I focused on his breathing. Everywhere his breath touched made me shiver. His hands locked with mine. They didn’t let go. I just kept thinking it was all in my head. It was just me. But then we locked eyes. His eyes stayed on me the whole time. I would look away and he would follow.

He knew.

He knew what I didn’t know , or didn’t want to believe. He knew I had loved him. But for how long. He put his cheek on my cheek and his breathing in my ear,  heightened all my senses. All the times before it was just sex. All the times before I never paid attention to all the details. This time I was in tuned with him. My body was in tuned with his. And at the peak of the intensity. He pulled his cheek off mine. And looked into my eyes. And for the first time the words I love you flowed so sweetly from his lips. And all I could think was, if this wasn’t love then God I don’t know what is.

 

“Beautiful hurricane, I create disasters”

“Snuff”

Bury all your secrets in my skin
Come away with innocence, and leave me with my sins
The air around me still feels like a cage
And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again

So if you love me, let me go.
And run away before I know.
My heart is just too dark to care.
I can’t destroy what isn’t there.
Deliver me into my fate, if I’m alone I cannot hate
I don’t deserve to have you
My smile was taken long ago, if I can change I hope I never know

I still press your letters to my lips
And cherish them in parts of me that savor every kiss
I couldn’t face a life without your light
But all of that was ripped apart, when you refused to fight

So save your breath, I will not care.
I think I made it very clear.
You couldn’t hate enough to love.
Is that supposed to be enough?
I only wish you weren’t my friend.
Then I could hurt you in the end.
I never claimed to be a saint
My own was banished long ago, it took the death of hope to let you go

So break yourself against my stones
And spit your pity in my soul
You never needed any help
You sold me out to save yourself
And I won’t listen to your shame
You ran away, you’re all the same

Angels lie to keep control
My love was punished long ago
If you still care, don’t ever let me know
If you still care, don’t ever let me know

Songwriters: CHRISTOPHER FEHN, COREY TAYLOR, CRAIG JONES, JAMES ROOT, MICHAEL CRAHAN, MICKAEL THOMSON, NATHAN JORDISON, PAUL GRAY, SIDNEY WILSON
Snuff lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

At the end of the video she says something I said a few weeks before…
“I want you to promise you will NEVER let go.”

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Erasing the Memories

I woke up today feeling better than I have in months. This breakup is a lot easier than the last. But I’ve said that before. It’s a more normal course for me. Or it would be if Lilith wouldn’t have involved herself1. At this point it’s not about missing Sam anymore.

I realized last night that I’m done missing him. I wish him well and I hope he gets the help he really needs. I will never regret knowing him. I don’t give a flying fuck about anyone else’s opinion of that. “It’s his fault. You should hate him, too.” I am angry with him and the things that I’ve found out recently2, there’s no doubt. But now I know what happened. I don’t need to hear him say it. I don’t need to hear him say anything else now. I was shocked that he’d turned like that, but now I know why. And now I will let all of that go.

But I will torment that bitch until the end of my days.

There’s a process in my brain when someone breaks a connection with me. It doesn’t matter how much I loved this person. It doesn’t matter how much we shared or how deep we were into each other. It doesn’t matter how well we know each other. I have one serious cry – the kind where your eyes are swollen for the entire next day – and then the healing starts. Then I empty my brain. You can see that part here3 it through the written word first. Then the weirdness starts.

The first step is forgetting the voice. I can’t recall what he sounds like. I have a recording, so I can listen to that, of course. But to recall it on my own? Even immediately after listening to the recording I forget the sound. My brain reads the words I’m trying to remember him saying. His voice is missing. My mind has erased it.

Then I forget the eyes. It doesn’t matter how deeply I’ve looked into them or how I’ve stared in an effort to burn the image into my brain. If I try to recall what his face looks like without an image to remind then I will fail. I know the words to describe the color or shape of them, but I can’t see them. If I imagine a face my mind’s eye avoids the area of the face where the eyes should be. There’s nothing there. I’ve erased them from my memory.

Next the entire face goes. When I remember or dream this person (whoever it should be) my mind will avoid the face or… blur it out. I saw a Buffy episode that had a monster with a similar face of what the people in my mind look like. Again, I can describe them with words, but I can’t see what I’m describing.

Then the memories become choppy and segmented. If I were to imagine him from head to toe I wouldn’t be able to do as a whole. I can see a hand, an ear, the stubble on his chin. I can see his weird toes, his calves… The images don’t seem to belong to a single person. They just kind of float there for me to snatch out of the ether.

It’s frustrating for me, but also a blessing. For some I can remember what their touch feels like or their breath going through my hair. But that’s not typical. That happened once when I was standing in my closet and it was almost like a ghost hugged me. That was probably the weirdest memory jolt I’ve had. The weirdness of it is the memory now, though. I can’t actually recall the feeling. Sometimes I will come across something that reminds me of a certain person. When I touch the object I get a sudden rush of feeling. But it’s short and a one-time only thing. My brain adjusts and plugs up the hole that memory may have leaked from. I liken it to the pain of childbirth. I can describe what that feels like but can’t recall the actual feeling of the pain. I’ve read that is a mechanism in place so that women won’t avoid having babies4.

I explained to my counselor that I will forget what he looks like in 2 weeks. She seemed a little taken aback. I’d assumed it was a relatively common thing. “Out of sight; out of mind” as the saying goes. That’s me, basically. She told me that’s a survival mechanism I probably honed from the time I was a child. I had to do it to survive. I asked her if I can fix it. I didn’t want to forget the way his voice vibrated when he called for me in the morning. I didn’t want to forget that growl he does. I didn’t want to forget the beauty of his eyes5. She didn’t offer anything other than “you need to find a way to connect more easily with more people”. Pshaw. That wasn’t the least bit helpful.

So, I tried to fix that. And I failed. There is no stopping my brain from doing what it’s been honed to do forever. I can’t recall his face without looking at a picture. I can remember what it felt like to lie with him, but his voice? Gone. I look at his pictures, but they don’t stick when I shut the app. It’s not because I didn’t love him. Don’t get it twisted6. But I’ve subconsciously released myself from… missing him.

I can’t guarantee that I’d even recognize him if I saw him right now. Forgetting faces is frustrating. I’ve been there with other people. The last time I saw the love of my life I didn’t even recognize him. He had to tell me who he was. I have no pictures of him to remind me. I remember that I really loved him and why I really loved him. Again, I can describe it in words. But I can’t remember the feeling of being in love with him. I know I’ve never loved anyone else the same7. I want to believe that part of my memory is just walled up so tight even I can’t get to it – as opposed to it being gone forever.

I don’t much care who reads this or what their opinion is on the matter. I’m genuinely bothered that my memories just kind of evaporate. Overnight almost. After a while I completely forget what it felt like to be in love with someone – though I can describe it with words. That’s part of what I meant with “The Hollow”. I know that it happened on a logical level. I know because I do have the bare-bones memory that it actually happened. I don’t have the emotional memory of any of it. Not when I’ve decided it’s time to let go. I’ve packed it all away. Except the parts that caused the severance. That won’t go away. And that is why I don’t get back with my exes if we’ve been apart for a good length of time: I forget what it felt like to love that person. I also become friends with exes because I can’t recall the feeling of hurt – just that I got hurt and how. Not the feeling of it.

Anyway, the way she described what I was doing to me leads me to believe that it’s not common. That someone can really remember their loved ones faces well enough to count the freckles on their nose. How though? I told her that I’d forget his face in 2 weeks. She looked shocked. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen her since as she’s been out of town. She seems to think there’s something in me that really isn’t there. That’s kind of sad. When I tell her I was right I wonder what she will say.

Yes, I keep pictures of all the people who are involved in my life because I need to be able to visualize them. If they’ve not been around in a while then I begin to erase them. It does not matter who the person is. It’s all part of my curse. It tortures me. Because I want those good memories. I want to reach back into my past and pull up the good stuff. I can’t do that without visual or audio aids. I can watch that video of Lucifer and I and remember that I had a great time. I smile when I watch it. In my mind I have separated those memories away from the horrible ones I have. I like to focus on the bad ones in an effort to heal8. I can do the same with Sam or TheMan. I can remember that moment for the length of time it takes to watch that video. My brain puts it away after that.

So that’s where I’m at today. I don’t really even care much about the Lilith at the moment. She and her co-conspirator are annoyances on the peripheral of my life – Sam isn’t even part of that. I’ll always know why I can’t stand her. Eventually it won’t even matter. I’ve already begun moving her out of my head. I’ll never know how well or bad any of them are doing. I won’t care. I don’t stalk or circumvent blocks or drive by anyone’s house. I refuse to allow myself to do that crazy shit. I won’t allow more wounds to my psyche before these ones have scarred over. I know she will continue to hurt Sam with the words that I write here, but he also had the choice of finding out for himself when we were together9. He had the choice of talking to me about anything she and that other person told him. He chose their lies over my truth. And that’s that. Good riddance, I guess.

I’m glad it didn’t take as long as with Lucifer, though. Holy shitballs, I don’t have that much time in my life. Once again, as a reminder, my relationship with Lucifer was incredibly damaging. It was likened to an addiction. I had to detox from him and get him out of my system before I could even give Sam a chance. I remind myself what he did to me so that when I see the signs again I can act10. I just remind myself that I’ve been here before and I’m still alive and kicking. Sam’s friends helped me realize that I don’t have any more time for him either. That door that I opened has been closed to him forever.

I’m broken, yes. Lucifer took what I had to give, burned it to ashes, set the ashes back on fire and then pissed on those ashes. Yes, I’m recovering from that. Sam didn’t do all that – though he was digging the triangulation. I didn’t allow it to happen. Not this time and never again.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. That one has a long life of misery and internal torment to which to look forward. I should feel bad for her, but I hope she suffers for a very long time. []
  2. My suspicions that have all been confirmed. []
  3. I used to do it in a private journal that I’d eventually burn. My deepest thoughts still go into a journal though. Either way, I process []
  4. Silly scientists. We’ve found ways around that. []
  5. Which is funny because he and I have the same color eyes. []
  6. Lilith, if you read this, I hope you choke. []
  7. I was young. We were hot and heavy and dangerous. But he knew me. He knew my thoughts, he could read my face and, yes, he could finish my sentences. We loved the same things. We were inseparable until we separated. []
  8. And, with Lucifer, completely forget him forever. []
  9. I will not stop blogging. Fuck them. If they don’t like what’s being said then too fucking bad. There’s the x to close the window []
  10. As I did when Sam did his thing. I saw the signs and I couldn’t ignore them any longer. I acted in my own best interest for once. Survival mode kicked in and, well, it was different this time. []

The People with Whom We Surround Ourselves

the-best-version-of-ourselves
A quote that my friend sent me

The above reads:

The people we surround ourselves with either raise or lower our standards. They either help us to become the-best-version-of-ourselves or encourage us to become lesser versions of ourselves. We become like our friends. No man becomes great on his own. No woman becomes great on her own. The people around them help to make them great.

We all need people in our lives who raise our standards, remind us of our essential purpose, and challenge us to become the-best-version-of-ourselves. [emphasis mine]

I was talking about this with the person who sent this to me. At the time we were discussing how group dynamics work and how someone who is struggling to gain their footing in life can be tripped up by their circle of friends. And it’s true.

For example, if a person is trying to get clean and trying to be a better person, their drug friends (and others) will work against that person’s effort. And pretty soon that person is right back to where they were before – going nowhere. Are your friends encouraging you to do better? Are they helping buoy you when you’re drowning? Are they holding your hand while you’re recovering and trying to get out of that pit of despair?

Or are they just going to bring you down. Some friends don’t want anyone in their circle to be better. They prefer to drag their friend down. Just like it says above:

The people with whom you surround yourself will either lift you above the shit or drag you down into it. Every time. How are they helping you navigate life and reach your goals?

When you surround yourself with good people then you begin to think like them. You begin to see a future. You begin to make plans and actually see them to fruition. When you have people helping you – not hindering – then there really is only yourself standing in the way. You have the option of being a better version of yourself. Or not.

Anyway, I like that quote above. I’m going to memorize it, I think. It’s suiting for this situation1. I want to be surrounded by people who will lift me up as I struggle to find myself. I want to be surrounded by people who say to me “JJ, you’re better than this, man”. Because I know I’m capable, but my brain always tells me I’m not2.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. For myself and others. Like the person living on my blog. []
  2. My brain is a liar. []

I Want to Hide A While

Do you know what’s really bad about small towns in my area of Appalachia? The limited collective memory of the people who live here. People who grow up here get put into boxes young and they can never move out of those boxes. If you’d done anything as a teenager or young adult that broke the moral code then that is the label you carry to your grave with you.

It doesn’t matter where you go or how you grow. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to break out of that little box. Your intelligence, hard work, personal growth is all inconsequential. What you did when you were 17 years is all anyone needs to know about you. Find a new friend outside of your social category? Someone will come a long to remind everyone involved why it’s just not a good idea.

There is no anonymity in a small town. You can not go unnoticed. The more different you are the more everyone knows about you. Every interaction you’ve ever had will be scrutinized: how does this person know that person? Ok, then that person is related to that person through this person who everyone know did this thing when he was 17. Oh, my.

It’s almost a caste system. There are some untouchables in certain small towns. The extra-weird weirdos. No one will even be seen being kind to them. When someone passes them on the street they look straight down at their feet. If they can’t see them then they can’t be real. Outcasts, these people. Untouchable.

If you choose to remain in the town after you get out of high school, well, you’d better just remember your place in the system. Yes, go to school, better yourself. Get a decent job and raise a nice family. All of that. But never forget that you are only allowed friends within your box and that your children can only be friends within that box. Non-conformity will not be tolerated by anyone who wants to live without derision. No, no, I can’t be friends. What will the neighbors think?

There’s a certain amount of safety in living in a big city. No one knows your history. No one knows which box you should’ve fit in. No one has the memory to judge you by. You get to make a new impression. You can be in the box or outside of it. There are enough people exactly like you for you to form your own social group – away from the constraints of the tight-knit culture of a small town. Not a conventional person? In a non-conventional relationship? It’s much, much easier to say “who the fuck cares?” when you are surrounded by people in your support group. People who accept you and all of your quirks.

The constraints of that kind of social system1 make me crazy. I’ve said many times “This place sucks my soul.” And it’s true. I was much happier amongst other weirdos like me. I tend to remember the bad things that happen2, but I loved living in a city. I loved my awkward group of friends. I loved the memories we made together. I didn’t grow up there, but they didn’t care. Some of them didn’t grow up there either. They didn’t give a shit if I went to church. Non-conventional relationships were all part of our lifestyle. We didn’t make decide to ridicule someone because they fell in love with someone outside of our social norms. Welcome to the fold, new blood.

I could use some of that big city anonymity right about now.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. The locals who grew up there can tell you all about it. []
  2. This is, apparently, a major character flaw of mine. I’m going to be working on that. []

Do Not Google

I went to hang out with a long-time friend who is also a man. I’ve known him since I was 14. He’s a hoot. Anyway, we didn’t hang out during my relationship with the young dude because dude was super jealous. He was convinced my friend wants to get in my pants1. Anyway, he asked me to hang with him and I said “sure”. He’s funny and we cut up. What better medicine for a broken heart?

Turns out he’s just been through a breakup too. Or, at least, he and his girl are fighting. We talked about the strains of being in a relationship and what people expect from us for a while. It was kind of refreshing to talk to a dude about all this stuff – because I get to see inside a man’s head. His girl asked him if he wanted to come sit at her job until she got off. He wanted to go home so told her that and to text him when she got home. He told me that she just kept asking the same question until finally he said he’d already answered her. Her response? “But it’s not the answer I was looking for.”

What is so fucking hard about telling someone you care about “I would like for you to come here and keep me company?” I have no idea. He laughed when I asked that. “Exactly.” She was doing the whole hint-until-he-gets-it thing. Everyone hates that shit. That’s some nonsense TheMan would’ve pulled. Then, of course, these people get irate when they’re hint doesn’t go over as well as they’d thought.

So, I guess they’re not talking anymore. At least not for a while. He sounded like that made him a little sad. I told him the bare bones about what happened with my young dude. He offered no sage advice or any other comment. He just nodded. No apparent judgement. And that was the end of that subject. He understood that I love my dude. He understood that I’m also doomed.

So, the convo turned to other things and we started talking about the interwebz, memes and the devil’s own website, Facebook. I told him about some of my most magnificent trolls and how some of them became my friends. The conversation turned to some of the things I’ve come across. I recounted the first time I ever saw a goatse. He looked confused. I laughed. Oh, yeah?

I pulled out my phone and googled the image. His reaction was priceless. For the record, he knew it was going to be gross. He was prepared for that2 and yet… He was not at all prepared. I must’ve laughed for a full 5 minutes. It was a bad way to get a laugh, but I have no regrets.

It’s also a good way to dissuade any kind of ideas. I’m too gross to be taken seriously as a rebound now. I hoped he didn’t make any moves, but just in case I deployed the “I’m no lady, champ” defense missile. It works in most cases. Also, he bought me skittles. Sure sign that I need to get ahead of this disaster before it even unfolds. Otherwise, I was glad to get out of the house and around someone with my sense of humor.

On another note: My other sister told me today that my young dude’s grandmother goes to her church and asked my sister to pray for him. My sister then told her to please pray for me. So, yeah, that’s not at all weird.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Doesn’t matter that he should trust me or that we’ve been friends so long without ever engaging with each other romantically or sexually. []
  2. This is the conversation we were having. []

Feeling Alive

From my writing folder:

I am emotional. That’s true. I spent the last 8 years not feeling anything. I put myself away to appease someone else. For stupid reasons. None of which were for myself or love.

But now I’m free of that isolation. I am finding myself again. And I want to feel everything. I want to rage. I want to love. I want to feel joy. I want to feel the pain. Because I want feel human again.

I care too deeply. I cry easily. I lose my temper in spectacular ways. I laugh too loud. I am too bold.

I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid to feel everything. Instead of hiding from myself behind a wall, I opened a door. I want to feel alive. Like an individual person again.

I’ll continue to heal and I’ll be a better person when I’m finished. I will move forward and grow. I will live my life – have adventures, have heart break, and make memories. I will not grow stagnate. I will not regret anything.

I will not be afraid of my own humanity.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Above Me?

#AmWriting

You’re “above” me?

Motherfucker, you’re so far beneath me you see the bottom of my feet when you look up. I reached down into the gutter and pulled you from the shit in which you were wallowing. I gave you the means to pretend to be a man for a while. I made you look good to people who would never have looked your way otherwise. And like the TAPEWORM you are, you took and took and took until I was depleted. Then your snake ass moved on to the next victim. She’s done with you now? Imagine that. I sympathize with her.

And where are you now? Back where *I* found you. Right back where you belong. Because you don’t have what it takes to be on my level. You don’t have what it takes to maintain the facade you make without *someone like me* to hold you in place. We make your man act look legit. Otherwise you never succeed. You’re not capable.

I am ashamed that I let someone as *small* as you steal my heart. I’m ashamed of what I did to try to make you happy. I’m ashamed of *almost* all of it. Except how I helped a pitiful person at rock bottom. I’m not ashamed that my character couldn’t look away. Was I stupid? Yup. But I tried to do something good at the time. I’m ashamed I believed that you were worth that – that I believed you were a good person.

I’m ashamed that still care enough to get pissed at you. There is no point to you in my life. I’m ashamed that I expended so much emotional capital in you. Those puppy dog eyes and crocodile tears are really good weapons. But your eyes are mirrors instead of windows. I was looking at my own damned self.

You’re above me? You were lucky I looked down and saw you at all. I improved your life immeasurably. I was a fucking gift to you. Where is my thanks? Where is HER thanks? She did even more for you than I did. She made you look like you were a good family man. That was a valuable crutch. Did you think you’re better than her too?

Crawl back out of that shit on your own, dude. Do it without sucking the life from another female. Do it like a man. Then you might be on my level.

The funny part? I’m just some lowly schlub. How far down are you to be below *me*?

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

The Chameleon

The Chameleon Effect is a way we interact with other people. We begin to mimic those around us. I was talking to my counselor about this the other day. I don’t know how much I do it as I tend to make people uncomfortable1. I was discussing how much MyDude engages in mimicry and he doesn’t even realize it.

He adopted a lot of my language while we were together. Even his response to my apology was something I say: “That’s fine no worries”. He began to regularly say “fucktard”, which I found amusing, and called me by the pet names I gave to him. He seemed to enjoy my music, but had a country CD in his car. He was very fluid depending on the situation he was in. I found that fascinating about him. But it may well have been the way he snagged me and was so good at manipulating me. 

I don’t believe the stories of his youth were mimicry, even though he comes from a similar background to mine. I had never discussed my childhood with him before he told me things about his past. When we first got together he was very open about that stuff. That made me trust him enough to tell him things I’d never even told TheMan. I told him some of the dark stuff. Things I won’t put here. He was very open about his past. 

My counselor suggested that he became so adaptive for survival purposes. I didn’t tell him what MyDude told me, but he could guess things based on how MyDude treated me. He said MyDude would never be reliable or truly honest or a good partner for someone like me. MyDude hasn’t got the capacity to love someone like me. That was such an odd thing to hear from a counselor. But it makes sense. From what I know MyDude has always been left to his own devices, even as a little boy. He’s never had that deep connection that people get when they’re loved by family. The boy wasn’t shown the kind of love he’d need when he was a man. That’s so sad to me. I want to build a time machine and go back to hug that little boy. And that’s my problem. I want to fix something that he doesn’t even want to fix.

He acts the way people he’s with want him to act. He never feels safe enough to let his real self out. And when someone loves him enough to pull that out him he takes off. He never wants anyone to see that part of him. My ego was hurt because he showed me part of himself but pulled it back and ran away. Not even I could draw hom out safely. And, no, I’m not ignoring the fact that I made it unsafe for him ultimately.  He could never be safe with me. But I’m still upset he never truly let himself go with me.

I saw part of him. Just a bit there at the end. I saw him crack himself open just enough. That last week was something else – just enough to give me hope. And then… well, we know how all of that went. I let myself just be when I wss with him. There was a small period of time when I felt safe enough to just let myself out – finally. Heh. What a mess that became.

So, I thought that was interesting. It’s too bad neither of us could be safe. It’s a damned shame that we were so broken because…

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. My friend told me that I’m like coffee in that I’m an acquired taste. []