Thursday, 28 February 2008
On the subtlest and the bluntest level.
Had my life entirely been like this, one long dreadful inquiry into whether things were going the way I wanted? Have I taken the possibly foolish step when I bare you my heart god-damned three years ago? I am telling you I had been hopeful.
I could not figure out where I stood. Was that some kind of a game you thought funny and that I would be dead chaff you play? The lightness of your conversations made me seem somehow vulnerable. There was a silence before sleep washed over me last night during which it occurs to me that I might have the unpleasant power to ruin this affair that had been going on in my head. I don't want to be hidden away in a life studded with you, your name and your presence that was supposedly to be mine. I am not hating you, friend. My petulance seems childish.
I felt harassed by the fact that you used me or my name to get your love across in an underlying means. I refuse to ride along and this is more likely a point beyond I feel an unquestioning uncertainty between us. I am more intrigued than insulted.
I am going through a sticky patch with myself, perhaps. What's gone wrong repels you.
