I was staring out the window, the whole time he was talking to me…
You know it has been a long week when I don’t have the energy to over analyze the things you say… I’ve been learning the art of just letting it go. It’s odd but I’m beginning to trust that if it really mattered, you’d probably tell. Now you just need to learn how to broach statements without feeling confrontational.
I had intended at some point, to give a good long discourse on nomenclature and its importance or lack thereof, however I’ve come to the conclusion that if I’m happy and the object without-name is making me happy then I ought to just calm down and take it as it comes.
On another note, I’m really not liking the status of this entire McHugh issue right now. A desire to be the hero in a situation you know nothing about has never looked more childish. If you don’t want me to feel like I have to justify my actions, why put me on the defensive?
What I want to know is this–is it more moral to break a promise or to lie?
I can’t past-tense deny comment. All I can do is tell the truth, or keep lying. Break a promise, or be honest…
What I want to know is why I’m stuck feeling like the criminal here, like I’m the one that should be apologizing for what happened.
I walk all night long
Hidden beneath my thick wool jacket
From the rain
And your eyes.
If I could bleed, or sleep–
Maybe then this restless ever waking hopeless
Feeling
Maybe this solution in my veins, so meaningless
Might drain through a nightmare’s seive…
Maybe then I might live. ("Do Not Resuscitate")
I wish I could be afraid of something simple right now. The normal insecurities that I am used to, that he won’t like me or that I’ve alienated him. I can get over boys, that’s easy. I can’t get over this restless ever-waking hopeless feeling, this growing inability to forget the past as I have before. If it could be as simple as a relationship that won’t work because of my past and my only just now blossoming ability to deal with it, that would be simple. This is far more complex, this is the surmounting inability to ignore reality. This is meeting face to face with the role I played as object and my anger and dread and humiliation in dealing with that.
It’s easy to be angry at her. It’s easy to be aloof about him. It’s easy to blame myself entirely and make excuses and do what’s easiest. It’s easy to let this humiliation make me run again.
The problem is, I know what’s right, and it’s not going to be easy.