and it includes a big bed, and the house size doesn't matter. there is a couch, comfortable, and a tv. and there is svu playing. there is a husband, who smells nice, in fact, the house smells nice, the bed smells of us, bathed, with musky undertones of sweat detectable only to its occupants. there are no children, not yet, but there is a world right there.
there is a kitchen with ikea bottles and jars, clean, organised.
there is a job, that's not particularly well-paid, but which i love. he makes a good, honest living. there is a quiet, peaceful sense of the things that are important, and there is separation. separation from the chaos that is going on outside our door, from people, from ugliness.
over and above, there is knowing, there is certainty- in God, in each other, in love, that governs interaction in this dream life.
thinking about this dream life makes me glad.
i came back to a place i didn't really want to come back to, to parents whom i don't really get along with, to no job, to no actual life and my relationship is in the worst state it's ever been. on all fronts, save the religious one, life is shit. it really really is shit. and yet i'm okay, which is testament to God's goodness, i even have joy, but i question that joy, i question my place in life, and its current state. if you looked hard enough, i'm sure you could detect my wariness/weariness.
i speak of inner peace, but on all accounts i am desperate.
someone who understands you/the other completely, inside out, pre-empts you/him/her, knows your/his/her motivations and intentions, your/his/her sensitivities, proclivities, demons
or
someone who doesn't quite meet you/him/her on a similar wavelength, but is a safe, warm haven from your/ him/herself and all the things that you/he/she hate(s) about your/him/herself
ceteris paribus of course, holding love constant most of all.
you realise that a certain good part of you, something that you knew was such an integral part of your good person, might truly be lost and gone forever? "might"- only used because of some sort of denial on my part; deep inside i know that my ability to trust another man fully, and mean it, is irretrievable. "is irretrievable"- so hard to type, like i don't want to believe it myself, but it's true. that simple peace is irretrievable, no matter the goodness of the man i'm dating or the next man i date, and it is something i'm grasping at desperately, trying to mask my demons in the meantime, trying to be good, trying not to be disgusting. and as each day passes, it's one day further from the whole reason why i am this way, it's one more failed day afforded to me to get over it, one day closer to it becoming all my fault and none of D's, one day closer to a big fat joke. and every morning i wake up and i'm still this pathetic person, the same, if not worse than before. it has come to the point where it has become laughable that i could possibly actually still blame D for it, because that was a different life and a separate time and i was myself but not; i have these visions of going up to him and saying to his face while extending a pointed finger, "you destroyed me".
the vision continues though, a look of bewilderment on his face, he knows not what i am talking about, "excuse me?". and oh, my, the joke's on me now.
i know this in my heart to be true, and i am experimenting, to my own detriment and potential demise of my current relationship, different ways to move on- how to stop the blame and shoulder responsibility, cold turkey, seriously? phrases to repeat in my head to counter paranoia, jealousy and insecurity. or is this who i am. how to fill the gap of the "irretrievable" with good things instead of all the bad that resides in there now, and oh, that cup runneth over a million times. for i know all the things i want to know will never solve or satisfy, only because i want my suspicions confirmed; how perverse to keep looking!
and it only brings me back to my original points. i need to stop, which i've known for years. and grudges are bad news- the need for sick satisfaction will never be gratified.
"residing in duality" or alluding to tensions between heart and mind are just sophisticated ways of saying "schizophrenic". say the dirty word, dammnit. say it, sully yourself, jump in the mud and roll in it. ok. rant over. i don't even know what that was for.
i really want to believe A, that he knows we will spend the rest of our lives together. my heart just leapt, reflexively, on reading the text this morning. and it was as if everything was right in the world again, had i not given it a second thought. but i remember he also said that he was in a bad way, that he didn't know what he was talking about, and not to take stock in anything that he said. and tomorrow he might just say to me, i can't think beyond next week, i can't even bear to think about the future right now. and i wanted to kick myself in the ass so badly, for being so hung up and clinging on to the remotest form of encouragement and hope. i haven't replied, the natural response of anyone faced with even the slightest tinge of positivity from the person whom she wants to do the right thing/be the right person for but knows he doesn't think much of her is that of a sycophant. and hell i am not a sycophant, i would hate myself so much. and i will not be, especially to someone who doesn't know what he wants.
i am breathing hard, the air is so still.
have procrastinated enough. cover letter time, so help me God.
and thought i'd be self indulgent and gasp, start a new blog. i wonder what that says about me, that i keep looking to new places instead of fixing the old, yet i can't bear to close down the old ones or take the old posts off. i really should close xanga- both li*han and na*sil. but i can't. i have 2 blogs on typepad, 1 on blogspot and 1 on livejournal. or 2? and now vox. SEVEN blogs. what the heck is wrong with me. there really is something wrong with me. that, and i have no sophistication of writing style, and that my thoughts are complicated in a most childish, cliched way. i really am some kind of freak. it's just that a clean slate excites me. it's false consciousness really, it's pretense, a facade, an escape from a previous escape... 7 times over. what am i running from? myself?
anyway that's about all i wanted to say really. i'm helpless at this point, i don't know what to do or think and my brain is fried to a crisp so thank God for God. and even in my grovelly pathetic state of zero dignity and confidence, i can croak out in praise that God loves me in spite of my emotional inadequacies, in spite of my sin, in spite of my dwindling capacity to love, in spite of my blindness and denseness. in spite of my jealousy- of her (P), of her actually being able to understand A, of her flair for the written word (and his ability to understand her convoluted prose), of their untouchable kindred spirits. in spite of my ugliness, there is a God who loves me, how is that possible?
maybe i'll write more tomorrow. i have a major cover letter to write before i go meet E in town. i should get some sleep so i can rise at a decent hour.
