This is given heavy, heavy weight: expectation. At some level, I must be susceptible to "heavy"; it sets off a dull excitement in me. I don't really know if it is beyond or below the trivial me, it's the raw me. Whatever it is it's intense, a sort of passion of closeness similar to a confession with no distance. I tried to talk about it but found misunderstandings made me seem mad and worthless of any explanations.
I am blank not furious, neutral. Sitting in my familiar confines of pastel green wall and almost bare room. My head is ballooning with all sarcastic bubbles and yeah, I'm thinking why I opened my self to another person from the other side of the world and talked openly in which it was a profoundly difficult business for me to do so, but I did. Now, the dialog between my inner and outer self is in constant dualism in that sense that I am always chatting away with internalized other. Essentially dramatic. I guess I've thought about the damage that could be done to my core self, to the very center of my self if I were to say, handed that center over to someone else..the getting-to-be-wrong someone else?
The past months seemed to be a struggle for me. A struggle to grasp reason as whether to stay and remain pacified for all the inconsistencies and roughness of attitude he has been showing me. Though I said I understood and tried to understand his idiosyncrasies, up until now, it pains me to feel like a crumpled paper ready to be disposed and dumped anytime. Purpose done. Throw. Thank you very much. Or not even thanking at all.
I don't know what he really wants. When I looked back and examined all the things that happened, the chats, the experience and feeling of transcending the strange familiarity between us seemed to be magical but as I wrote in my previous journals, magics are illusions. The thrill of something about to happen, I just have to blurt stuff out.
Most people feel similarly, they don't question the experiential process. They are starving for the release, the love-- whatever their emptiness dictates. They don't want to think it could be manipulated, conjured, projected. The thing is, it works--manipulated. And I'm afraid it is happening to me. More, I was hurt, looking back at all the good times of being with each other seemed to fall in the categories of fondness, withdrawal, extinction...
I don't know how things exactly happen or things happened as he deliberately choose these things to happen. We like each other so much but we don't communicate,, maybe we did pretty well. Before. Because his interest WAS there. But now, it is different. Things are totally different and he started it all along.
One thing very few people with brains can be bastards and bitches forever. No matter how dominant the current identity is, there's nearly always a head battle about what the authentic identity's doing underneath. For all his buoyancy this matters to him. He is not quite sure where the real him is. Or if he is representing a "him" far, far away from the original.
And here I come with a bottle of beer and no contacts.
The journey back to my self is silent.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Me and the Bull
Recently, I have realized that there are higher virtues than commitment. I watched the light crawl towards the shadows in my room. The humid atmosphere was filled with the hustle and bustle of people rushing home after a tiring day. Despite the noise, I can only feel an acute sense of loneliness.
I could not fathom such longing for things to be different from the way they are.The dream to reach for what I always wanted escapes me sometimes. I try to deny that I merely want and do not feel the aching need and immerse my self in music and mosaic because I have never known any other way to relieve the silence haunting my soul.
Perhaps, I am waiting for the impossible. For the soul I sought will never find me. He will never know that I lived under the shelter of shadows just like him, hiding the truth because it is easier to deny. Those seemingly vacant eyes will never find out how much I understood his belief that contradictions and yearnings are just void of grey shades. He will never realized that I saw colors through him, every hue mocking me with its clarity and hitting me with a sharp longing.
Aristotle said that happiness is the end most sought for. Of course, he probably referred to that happiness beyond the measly glee brought about the novelty or youth or the fleeting gladness of temporality. But philosophical abstractions notwithstanding, things are often simpler than they seem: When you don't think you are happy, you probably aren't.
Of Men
Even if you manufacture quaint rationalizations about it, relationships are complex and anxiety ridden enough without the pressures of having to define what stages are you in. There is denial, anger, fear, bargaining and acceptance-- almost synonymous to stages of death!
For the female species, no organism is as baffling as incomprehensible as that which is referred to as "men". He can turn your life into howling wilderness of misery by employing such devious means as ignoring you, not able to take a hint and doing practically anything as if you don't exist. For some reasons, they can almost do anything for you as much as they could claim, IF they want to get something, and the next time you knew it, they would manipulate your focus and attention for some incomprehensible purpose-- they are men and they are to take the lead. They almost have all the reasons in this world if they don't want things get happen yet, they also have all the ways to do what they want to take place.
I know from vast experience of observations that men can behave as irrationally and even mushily than women. They drink as an excuse to get emotional. Afterwards, they would deny everything they said or done as if they were on their losing intervals when they were drunk. (Hey, losing interval is a legal jargon for schizophrenics).
Men want something from their underwear that they want from women: a little bit of support and a little bit of freedom.
Of course, NOT all men are subject for these observations, I just haven't met any. I, myself have recognized the futility of even attempting to understand how the male mind works. But I worship the man I love. Call it madness, I do.
Comparisons are odious but I would admit that I have an object of my most profound hormonal affections.The saddest part is, as much as I want to be with him, I cannot this time because I am still finishing something in my home country. I have my plans though but hopefully, he is still "available" that time. We halfly knew each other but the only thing that we are sure of, we like each other so much and up until now, my feelings for him hasn't changed. The connection is still there, the cord that would never be denied.
Life is chaotic and frequently bizarre. It has its own logic which we do not see . There are no cause and effect, things just happen with no apparent reason. Relationship is a two-way thing, no matter on what instance you meet someone, whether at a wrong time or right reason, it is a commitment and supposedly without bargaining, it is an understanding of two people without any expectations of only one would benefit. We try to impose a notion of order by assigning events as beginning, middle and end. These are often arbitrary. You don't know that something has begun not unless you are in the middle of it, you might think you have seen the ending but the story goes on.
For the female species, no organism is as baffling as incomprehensible as that which is referred to as "men". He can turn your life into howling wilderness of misery by employing such devious means as ignoring you, not able to take a hint and doing practically anything as if you don't exist. For some reasons, they can almost do anything for you as much as they could claim, IF they want to get something, and the next time you knew it, they would manipulate your focus and attention for some incomprehensible purpose-- they are men and they are to take the lead. They almost have all the reasons in this world if they don't want things get happen yet, they also have all the ways to do what they want to take place.
I know from vast experience of observations that men can behave as irrationally and even mushily than women. They drink as an excuse to get emotional. Afterwards, they would deny everything they said or done as if they were on their losing intervals when they were drunk. (Hey, losing interval is a legal jargon for schizophrenics).
Men want something from their underwear that they want from women: a little bit of support and a little bit of freedom.
Of course, NOT all men are subject for these observations, I just haven't met any. I, myself have recognized the futility of even attempting to understand how the male mind works. But I worship the man I love. Call it madness, I do.
Comparisons are odious but I would admit that I have an object of my most profound hormonal affections.The saddest part is, as much as I want to be with him, I cannot this time because I am still finishing something in my home country. I have my plans though but hopefully, he is still "available" that time. We halfly knew each other but the only thing that we are sure of, we like each other so much and up until now, my feelings for him hasn't changed. The connection is still there, the cord that would never be denied.
Life is chaotic and frequently bizarre. It has its own logic which we do not see . There are no cause and effect, things just happen with no apparent reason. Relationship is a two-way thing, no matter on what instance you meet someone, whether at a wrong time or right reason, it is a commitment and supposedly without bargaining, it is an understanding of two people without any expectations of only one would benefit. We try to impose a notion of order by assigning events as beginning, middle and end. These are often arbitrary. You don't know that something has begun not unless you are in the middle of it, you might think you have seen the ending but the story goes on.
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