Monday, October 07, 2013

Day 8

My eyes just opened, and I am already paralyzed.

Under the dark cover of night, my ego again, somehow, managed to wheedle free of my tight grasp and disappear for a canter, and I again, somehow, managed to be the first one to break the space between us, and crawled into bed next to him and made him (would he have if I hadn't?) hug me. I do not regret it, for it was the most honest thing I'd done all night. I even tried very sincerely to stay and sleep there, but it seems impossible for me to physically understand why two people who fit so well together shouldn't, well, fit together. I understand it intellectually, and am not asking for thirty years. But there are two cliches that have recently been hounding me greatly. One, "love me the most when I deserve it the least because that's when I need it the most," and two, quite simply, "life is short."

And so I find it hard to convince myself not to love him, and not to give him that love. If for even a moment, we can share a warmth, we can feel each others' breaths, we can hear each others' heartbeats, and a single kiss can make our hearts race in the belief that we are cherished and special to someone, why shouldn't we? Holding back because we have no future is senseless to me, at least as long as I am here. What is this future we are so afraid of maiming? Why does this future, utterly unknown, get more importance than the known love and warmth I have now? Why is an unknown future worth more than me today? Don't we really deserve to be loved even when we don't deserve to be loved? The scene from Aashiqui 2 comes to mind, when he tries to give up drinking, but skulks away looking harrowed, and she sees him drinking from a mini-bar sized bottle, looking thoroughly humiliated by himself, and just as I was expecting her to slap him, she gives him the most violently tight hug, because she knows there is nothing she can say to make him feel worse than he already does, and what he needs is to be reminded that he is still loved.

Anyway, I seem to have lost my point. I tried, very sincerely, to stay and sleep there, but for the reasons above, it was too hard. Either way, I do not regret it.

What the harshness of daylight has, however, very unkindly, brought back to me is my fickle wandering ego, that is looming over me, while I cower in a corner with a vortex in my chest and gut, asking me questions that I have no answer to, such as: "The last time you saw him, he refused to even go to bed without hugging you. For crying out loud, he jumped into the guest room with his parents next door, saying he wanted a hug, and plopped down and held you. And what now?" and "Will you always be the one making the first move now, even for a hug? Do you think he will ever come to you himself and trust you enough to show you his weakness the way you lay yours out for him to see? Or does he have no weakness, and if so, what does that say about you?" and "Why don't you just admit that he doesn't care what you want to do for him? He jumps at the mention/invitation of food from anyone and everyone else and admits that he is 'shameless' when it comes to that, but he hasn't once shown the slightest hint of excitement or even acknowledgement that you wanted to cook for him. Why don't you just give up?" and "Does he even have an idea of places to show you around? Is there a plan, like there was in Kansas? And if he doesn't, why hasn't he asked you if there's somewhere that you want to go, even if it's just a dinner date?" and "Related to that, why do you think even when he takes you to show you places, he takes pictures, without you, and texts them to others, with you right there, less than an arm's length from him? It's because he'd rather be sharing those moments with others, others that are not you. So why don't you grow a pair and tell him that you don't need him to spend his time with you when he would clearly rather be with others?" and "I mean really, aside from being sorry that you're in pain (which he obviously is, since he's a good person), does he even give a shit that you aren't together? It's one thing to feel bad about your pain, it's another to have pain of his own. You've seen that he feels bad about your pain, but have you seen any pain of his own? You know you've seen his pain after his last relationship ended. But what about now? What if your fear is entirely true, and he cared a lot more about that ending than he does about this ending? Haha, crazy bitch, what then?" and a hundred others that it is too draining to articulate.

So I twist uncomfortably, in pain, mumbling incoherent answers to this aggressive ego, at once afraid of and repulsed by its power when it chooses to come to me. Is it just playing its role, being overprotective? Or is it just a hindrance, to keep me from being able to give what I want to, and to ask for the things that I want? What is the real spectrum of damage I can do to myself if I went to him whenever I wanted, told him whatever I wanted and asked him for whatever I wanted? Would the damage be greater if I were honest, and did what I wanted, and was, likely, frequently rejected, or if I were to never even try to make the most of these moments I do have with him, quite possibly the last?

My eyes opened, I typed this, and I am paralyzed. I cannot get up to wash my face, or even to pour myself any wine. I just had one glass after I got home last night, and didn't even touch the new bottle I'd opened. I cannot message him to ask how his day is going, since I am a coward and don't want to know if his day is not productive because it will just upset me that he is not home. I might have to drag my already cold body (cold from being paralyzed, not the temperature) into the chill outside for a smoke.

All I want is for night to be here again. So I can drop the charade, stop trying to measure every word and action, stop trying to hold back tears at the complete confusion over how we ended up here, stop wanting things from him, and so I can just crawl into bed next to him and try again to convince myself to sleep there without wanting my lips to touch his, and in that singular contact, transfer to him all the love I have in me (which isn't much), empty myself into him, and turn either into vapour or into stone.

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